UF Origins: Season 1
by Tomyris
Summary: The first season of UF Origins, the tie-in to the Undiscovered Frontier Multi-crossover series by Big Steve. Join with the adventures of the ASV Huáscar!
1. Act 1

**Intro**

Captain (substantive Battlemaster, promotion from Battle Captain effective three days before) Zhen'var f/k/a Zhengli Varma had arrived on the ASV _Huáscar_ one month before her commissioning ceremony for the intensive trials and efforts which would result in her being stood up as an active-duty ship of the Alliance Stellar Navy. A month of shipyard trials being run by the dockyard personnel with Lt. Commander (substantive Battle Expert) Elia Saumarez as the ranking naval officer had concluded with a reasonable punchlist of items to be corrected, and soon after the Battle of Germania Captain Zhen'var had arrived to assume command. The pre-commissioning trials had shaken loose a few more problems, and the shipyard personnel were still working to remedy them in many areas of the ship even as the ceremony was being held.

Within a week of her commissioning ceremony, she was expected to leave for a month-long final shakedown cruise under regular commission with her crew at full list strength and her arms lockers and magazines full. When it was finished, she would begin to receive regular duty assignments as a part of the Fleet. Thus it would be only three months and one week after her physical completion as a functional ship that she would be fully operational, as a testament to the efficiency of the shipbuilders.

The ceremony was held at Naval Fleet Base Alexandra in H1E4 on the docking-arm main assembly concourse. Admiral Maran was there, as well as the Foreign Minister and Warmaster Shai'jhur. The Foreign Secretary was of course the first to speak. Lentiro Onaran was a Dorei gentleman with ocean blue eyes and teal spots, dressed in a yellow and bronze formal suit of Dorei fashion as he came to the podium. In attendance, in formation, were the crews of the _Huáscar_ and the _Heermann_ , all in their dress uniforms. The Marine complement was present, too, in their own dress blues, the officers in their dress whites.

Everyone was there: There was Commander Imra, decorated twice for bravery. Daria Seldayiv, her bright colouration contrasting with the white of the uniform, decorated much the same. So was Lt. Commander Poniatowska and several of the others. There was Elia and Will, Operations and XO, the two most important people, Zhen'var's Hands, looking a bit uncomfortable at the ranks of medals and campaign ribbons a hell of a lot of their subordinates had. None of the medals matched the odd contrast of the two that Zhen'var wore. One was for operations over Germania, and one was the Line Medal. It stood above even the highest decorations for bravery in the whole of the Alliance. It was the medal which let someone know that you had held the Line, and there was no equal, save perhaps if the Spartans had seen fit to strike one for Thermopylae.

In the audience was one fellow in a uniform like Shai'jhur's, with a medal like Zhen'var's. Governor the Battlemaster Ari'shan, looking uncomfortable between his Line Medal and the ribbon hanging low from his neck showing him the Grand Chief of the Order of the Champions that Warmaster Shai'jhur had created to award valor. He couldn't help but keep peeking a look toward his son in the ranks of the pilots in their sky-blue full dress uniforms. Close by his side was Commander Montgomery Scott, having arranged to be in attendance for Anna Poniatowska, one of his engineers like Tom Barnes, and now standing up to commanding the engineering spaces of her own ship.

Minister Onaran cleared his throat and politely steadied himself on the podium. "Gentlebeings, welcome to Fleet Base Alexandra. I shall keep my remarks short. I would not be present for the commissioning of a conventional warship, however, the _Huáscar_ is a bold experiment at inclusion which promises to realise the great objective of 'a more perfect union'. Crewed equally between the nations of the Alliance and a State in the admissions process, the _Huáscar_ shall demonstrate the power and potential of the alliance to represent all nations in the Alliance's stand for peace and sapient rights throughout the Multiverse.

"The hour of supreme danger in the formation of the Alliance is over, and the terrible power of the Nazi Reich has been forever broken. Now is our chance for bold experiments to build the peace and hold our course as a beacon of liberty. The Multiverse still has many dangers in it, and to maintain the vision of the Alliance against those dangers, the Stellar Navy assumes all risks. In welcoming the Dilgar into the Stellar Navy, we make a powerful lesson for this Multiverse: The sins of the past will be forgiven in the deeds of the present, and nothing else. And nothing is more appreciated than the absolute willingness of the Dilgar nation to demonstrate those deeds. Your thirty-five ships and twenty-five divisions at Germania made the difference between victory and defeat. Your willingness to adapt to the Alliance is a testament to your future course. We want to walk this course hand in hand, eventually as one. And with that vision in mind, we bring the _Huáscar_ to life, as one exemplar of a shared sacrifice in duty and honour to the ideals and mission of the Alliance. Without further ado, I present Warmaster Shai'jhur, Head of State of the Honourable Union of Tira and Rohric."

Slight and frail, with her grey-tinged fur, Shai'jhur stepped to the podium next. She held her right hand out as a gesture, moving it in short, sharp movements. "Comrades and friends, today we are gathered to celebrate something I long held as an objective. I believed urgently and correctly that our future would be in understanding humans, and appealing to humans with our deeds and with the moral reform of our society. This comprehensive reform, which evidenced itself in the way Dilgar voluntarily took up dharma study and democratic institutions founded on a completely indigenous conception of participatory government, led us to the moment over Tira where we could justly proclaim ourselves the wronged party, fighting for our lives and our homes, and desirous of being allies and members of the great experiment of the Allied Systems.

"Today is the culmination of that effort. We will stand together as allies and friends all on the same ship, as we stood together in the fleets over _Welthauptstadt Germania. Huáscar_ is now a unique name for the Dilgar, since it was the name of the ship which also defended Tira under Captain Zhen'var. When I subsequently read the history of the name, I was struck by the amazing courage which marked this ship. I decided the name had to live on in the Alliance Service, and Admiral Maran as Chief of Naval Operations kindly agreed with me. I thank our allies and I also take our place of pride: In four months we mobilized one-point-five million Dilgar to fight this war. Our population has barely reached forty-five million; in fact half that number, about two percent of our entire population saw action on the fronts against the Reich, even though they were engaged for a brief time. I do not wish our new friends in the Alliance to think this was but a single burst of activity for our people. We shall make ourselves useful henceforth as well, and to me, the _Huáscar_ is the manifestation of that promise to our friends and allies. Be proud, Huáscareños, no matter what your blood is, you are the spirit and the future of the Dilgar Champions!"

She stepped aside, flashing a wryly pleased look to Admiral Maran as he approvingly went to the podium next. He coughed, and smiled. "Gentlebeings, together we are gathered here to give life to a ship. The _Huáscar_ is no common ship, but one of the finest, newest ships of the fleet, a showcase of the technology which was brought to us by the Aurora, of the legacy of the Darglan. Her mission is simultaneously exploratory and military, to be one of the foremost ships in defence, humanitarian aid, and discovery that we can field. She will follow in the footsteps of sisters and half-sisters like the Aurora, Enterprise and Excalibur. Yet for all her technology, it is the sapient intelligence, the power and emotion, the service and the honour, of those who crew her, that truly matters.

"When her name was proposed to me by Warmaster Shai'jhur, I hesitated in agreeing. First, I turned to the histories of the name. They reassured me immediately. Here was a ship whose crew, in the service of two nations, had followed Right, rather than the simple, the easy path. Many of them paid for it with their lives. Our mission is not an easy nor a safe one, and theirs was much less so. They stayed the course, just like the most recent _Huáscar_ did with her terrible and painful choice and struggle over Tira. We honour all of that with her name. Most of all, though, I believe as, a Gersallian, we can learn a great deal from the first Huáscareños. It was Captain Miguel Maria Grau Seminario who, on defeating the Chilean _Esmeralda_ and seeing Captain Arturo Prat of the same struck down on _Huáscar_ 's decks in a ferociously brave boarding action, decided to write this most tender message to Captain Prat's widow:

 _ **Dear Madam:**_

 _ **I have a sacred duty that authorizes me to write you, despite knowing that this letter will deepen your profound pain, by reminding you of recent battles.**_

 _ **During the naval combat that took place in the waters of Iquique, between the Chilean and Peruvian ships, on the 21st day of the last month, your worthy and valiant husband Captain Mr. Arturo Prat, Commander of the Esmeralda, was, like you would not ignore any longer, victim of his reckless valor in defense and glory of his country's flag.**_

 _ **While sincerely deploring this unfortunate event and sharing your sorrow, I comply with the sad duty of sending you some of his belongings, invaluable for you, which I list at the end of this letter. Undoubtedly, they will serve of small consolation in the middle of your misfortune, and I have hurried in remitting them to you.**_

 _ **Reiterating my feelings of condolence, I take the opportunity of offering you my services, considerations and respects and I render myself at your disposal.**_

 _ **(Signed) Cpt. Miguel Grau**_

"This great humanitarian soon enough fell in battle in the defence of his country in the terrible War of the Pacific. The Chilean service of the _Huáscar_ was no less meritorious than that for Peru, and the ship remained as a museum, a reminder of the heroism of two nations, a promise of peace and reconciliation between two peoples-the grave of two brave men. It is that spirit which transcends the name _Huáscar_ being something heroic, and makes it into an ideal, just like the ideal of the Aurora and the ideal of the Enterprise. Truly, we should all meditate on the story of the _Huáscar_ and be happy and confident that her latest incarnation shall serve as those of the past have served.

"As for her Captain, Captain Zhen'var served valiantly in the attack on _Welthauptstadt Germania_ , providing critical naval support. Her record there is well-publicised, so is her record over Tira, where she lost her home and her command for the sake of what is Right and Just. These were not easy choices, and they showed she was a fit woman for the Alliance, where we shall always strive to make Right and Justice the values for which we fight. In closing, I will simply say that the rest of her career requires no explanation and her choices require no defence. This is her ship to bring to life. Captain Zhen'var, please report."

"Admiral Maran, Captain Zhen'var reporting, aye!" She wheeled out to the side, stepped forward, and came to attention, forcing her hand not to salute by raw strength of will to avoid the wrong tone at the ceremony. Twenty years of muscle memory screamed at her and reminded her how informal the Alliance service was even at a time like this.

"Captain Zhen'var, I hereby give to you the commissioning pennant of the ASV _Huáscar_. By the power vested in me by President Morgan and the Government of the Alliance, you are directed to proceed without delay in crewing the _Huáscar_ and insuring that every billet is taken to strength, securing that she is structurally fit for War in every respect, and taking aboard all the stores and arms required for her service as a Ship of War in regular commission."

"Sir, I accept my charge and order, Sir!" She again forced herself not to salute and accepted the commission pennant into her hands.

"You may step forward and speak," Admiral Maran added with a gentle, almost grandfatherly smile, as he stepped to the side.

Zhen'var stepped forward to the podium. "Thank you, Admiral Maran. Gentlebeings, Huáscareños, I would like to add a little bit to the story of Captain Miguel Grau. You see, Latin America in the 19th century had endured wars which were utterly terrible, and traditionally governed by things like the Decree of War to the Death. Prisoners were not taken, or were brutalized and then killed. Atrocities governed the liberation wars against Spain and often occurred subsequently. Nothing like the Geneva Convention existed. But instead of decency being imposed from without, it grew from within. Miguel Grau was part of that process, the Knight of the Seas, famous for his humanitarian conduct toward his prisoners of war and civilians.

"He gave his life cleanly and bravely, fighting for his country on the deck of his little ironclad against overwhelming odds. In that way his life is a lesson in both humanitarianism and in courage. He reminds me strongly of another man, who the crew of an earlier _Heermann_ than our own were some of the last to see alive. A man who's struggle with Rightness, to uphold dharma and condemn adharma, was a personal one in which he overcame the prejudice of his time. He was refused for the Naval Academy because of his three-fourths Indian blood, enlisted, and promptly won an academy spot anyway for merit. In the American participation in the Great Pacific War or Second World War, he first served on a destroyer forced to flee during the East Indies campaign.

"He swore his first taste of defeat would be his last. On October 25th, 1944, he was in command of his own destroyer, the USS _Johnston_ , when confronted by the overwhelming force of the Japanese Combined Fleet. With the rest of the screen out of position, and his ship the nearest, he immediately launched a headlong torpedo attack against four battleships, eight heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and twelve destroyers. Delivering his torpedoes and crippling the Japanese cruiser _Kumano_ , his ship was shattered with a dozen rounds of main-calibre fire.

"Breaking off into the squalls, he received the order of Admiral "Ziggy" Spruance that all screen ships were to conduct a general attack. His torpedoes exhausted, two fingers from his left hand severed by shrapnel, half his ship's propulsion plant disabled, limited to seventeen knots with the helm worked by the chain falls on the steering gear, he swung back into line and attacked the full strength of the Imperial Japanese Navy a second time. Again taken under intense fire, the bridge was hit by main-calibre shellfire and most of his command staff slain. Badly wounded, Evans was last seen cheerfully waving to the Captain of the _Samuel B. Roberts_ as he stood on the fantail of the _Johnston_ , shouting helm orders to the men on the falls and steering closer to the enemy to engage a third time, his ship a burning ruin.

"I will be plain with you, Huáscareños. Evans' words when he commissioned the _Johnston_ are my words exactly, and we will all pray to the Almighty that we will not see the day we must true them. 'This ship is going to be a fighting ship. I intend to go in Harm's Way, and anyone who doesn't want to go along had better get off right now.'"

The Dilgar rankers erupted into cheers that sounded much like howls and growls. "Harm's Way is the Valiant Way!" they cheered in their native tongue, the translators working to capture the intent. To avoid the moment being lost for the human crew of the _Huáscar_ , Zhen'var raised her fist into the air. "Viva _Huáscar_!"

 _"Viva Huáscar!"_

 _"Viva Huáscar!"_

 _"Viva Huáscar!"_

As the three cheers finished rolling across the hall, Zhen'var turned, ramrod straight, to face Elia Saumarez, and presented the commissioning pennant to the black-gloved woman. "Lieutenant Commander, your order is to man the ship and bring her to life!"

"Aye-aye, Sir!" She spun on heel and marched to the front of the column of the assembled. "Huáscareños, man the ship and bring her to life!"

With Will at her side, Zhen'var stepped back up to Admiral Maran. Again her arm twitched. "Sir, by your instruction, the _Huáscar_ has been crewed. I invite you to inspect the crew at review stations."

"Your offer is accepted, Captain. Lead on."

They toured the crew mess, engineering, the bridge, the magazines and ammunition lockers, the flight decks, the Marines' bunkerage, the science labs, seeing in the crew turned out, lining the main halls at attention in their dress whites. Ari'shan, as a distinguished guest, accompanied the Captain and XO and Admiral Maran. The Foreign Secretary had already gone off to his next important event.

A group of Dilgar officers were waiting, at attention. Behind them was one of the most impressive pictures that Will had ever seen. It was a terrible visage of a half-ruined ironclad ship, surrounded by four others, two close, two far, pouring fire on it. Wrecked and burning, the ruin in the heart of the formation returned fire fitfully, but defiant.

"Admiral, Captain. Our gift for the Mess." The leading woman, in a Lieutenant's uniform, bowed. " _La combate de Angamos_. We wished to show we could be true Huáscareños to the memory of such a man as Grau, too! His death was as valiant as a Dilgar could seek. Please, accept the token, that we may never bring dishonour to our name."

"It is a very fitting work." Zhen'var leaned in at the detail of the canvas, and nodded. "I accept the gift in the spirit it is presented, Lieutenant. It shall hang in the mess, as a reminder of our profession - and our traditions."

"You honour us, ma'am." The officers came to attention and saluted. Unlike Zhen'var, they didn't even bother to try and stop themselves. The punishment in the Union Navy was too harsh to consider anything else.

Afterwards, Zhen'var and Will went to Zhen'var's ready room with Admiral Maran to meet Commander Imra-and Warmaster Shai'jhur. The ready room had its own portrait, of Miguel Grau, a copy of one commissioned long ago for the Peruvian Naval Academy.

As the junior Dilgar officer there, Zhen'var stiffened to attention, and spoke conversationally for the sake of the other two there; "Here stands a Warmaster!"

"At ease, Captain," Shai'jhur responded mildly, stuffing her hands into her pockets and looking coolly at the image of Miguel Grau. "It's a good reminder to keep in your office, Captain."

"He was a remarkable man," Maran agreed, moving to sit with the Warmaster. "At ease, Commanders. Please sit with us as well."

Zhen'var moved to sit, glancing about the still sparsely decorated ready room, making mental notes what she'd place where, and what she would have to try and find. "The crew is ready, from my impressions."

"I agree," Maran said. "They snapped to duty with a remarkable alacrity, and your handling of the matters of cultural integration like the cheer was very wise. I don't think integration is going to prove a difficulty at all." A slight frown. "However, your shakedown cruise could be relatively difficult. For reasons that are not particularly germaine, you are to conduct your shakedown cruise in E5B1."

The captain's face stilled, though she gave a single nod. "Of course, Admiral. Do you have the briefing, then?" _Could be relatively difficult? That is quite the understatement._

"You will be proceeding to reinforce the Darglan patrol, and conform to the orders of Captain Feroi of the _Riachuelo_. There are intelligence indications of instability in Interstellar Alliance territory focused on the Earth Alliance. That is a suitable duty for a shakedown cruise, for the duration you will have a supporting role only."

"Of course, Admiral. We will stand ready to support Captain Feroi's command as-ever may be necessary." Her response was automatic, though already, her mind was thinking to what she'd seen from the news reports, trying to think of what it could be in the recently unstable Alliance.

"Then, there is one final consideration," Shai'jhur now spoke, softly, and deliberately. "Battlemaster Ari'shan will be your guest aboard for the shakedown cruise. He is there at the special request of the Alliance government… Provide him every bit of assistance possible. His mission is primarily a diplomatic one, but unfortunately the details cannot be forthcoming at this time."

"I obey in ignorance, Warmaster." She replied, wondering if there were any more problems that were about to be thrown her way. The war hero of the Dilgar War, who'd fought on the Line and actually shot down several Nials? _No pressure at all, Zhen'var_!

"Thank you, Captain." Shai'jhur exchanged a sharp look with Admiral Maran, who sighed.

"My apologies, Captain. Your ship will bear this trial as her first, however. And I am confident in the outcome." He rose, Shai'jhur rose. The other officers moved to depart.

Shai'jhur paused at the door, turned back, and winked. "It will be fine, daughter-Zhen." With that, she too departed.

Zhen'var flopped back into her desk chair, and carefully forced the informality of first names she would soon get used to through her lips-and one name that she had plenty of familiarity with. "Will, please get Anna and Elia up here so we can start planning. We are going to start with the assumption that our playing backup for the Darglan guardship is going to last for all of five minutes, and go from there!"

 **Undiscovered Frontier: Origins**

 **"Matters of Honour"**

 **Act 1**

Spacers, by and large, thought space to be beautiful. For the most part the crew of the _Huáscar_ was no exception, loving the space around them. They were after all volunteers. Even the Dilgar had been volunteers, at least for this duty. They held themselves a breed apart, but so did many sorts of people, for many different reasons.

With her crew still settling down, a week into the voyage, Zhen'var had invited her senior officers to dinner. Will, Abebech, Anna, Elia, Nah'dur, Fei'nur. Operations was "over the others" as a matter of practice, though by rights one could argue that Lar'shan could be invited-however, Zhen'var treated Abebech as the supreme commander of her attached parasite forces, fighters as much as the _Heermann_ , and it made a certain level of sense, since the _Heermann_ could easily be used as a Forward Air Control ship for the fighter wing.

She held a brief moment of silence at the start of the meal, as the inherently multicultural nature of the Service dictated. They were an intensely eclectic bunch, as Zhen'var's eyes roved over the group. Each was settling into their roles, and she smiled as the moment of silence ended.

"Our mission has lasted longer than five minutes, thank the Divine for small favours. Your reports all indicate that everything is coming together well."

"Ship operations are as smooth as can be expected after a relatively short duration of operations. We're meeting our objective metrics for decreases in response time across drill scenarios, though not really outperforming them, either," Elia explained, gloved hands slicing fish. They ate a lot of replicated fish to keep group meals respectful of everyone's diets. "Which is management speak for 'we're meeting your objectives, Captain, but not exceeding them.'" She grinned.

Anna was eating her salmon with a dill sauce, and looked up thoughtfully. "Engineering is exceeding objectives for recommended times in reactor shutdown drills. I've always considered that a personal objective. The rest is within metrics."

"Is the breakdown the same across the operating divisions, Elia?" Will asked.

She shook a gloved hand in the air. "Mostly. Tactical is bringing up the tail, but it's strictly due to the lack of experience in anyone except L'tenant Seldayiv."

"That sounds like an excellent reason for more holodeck sim time." _Huáscar_ 's crew already found (in)famous their Captain's love of the things for training, though trying to get a recreational pass was another matter entirely.

"I could devote some time to one run as the OPFOR," Abebech remarked pleasantly from her side of the table. She ate, but it always seemed like she was just picking at her food.

"Merciful God, that might humiliate Daria a bit," Elia looked skyward.

"Do not crush their spirits, Commander, but do not go easily on them either. I need them to get better, not feel the effort impossible." Zhen'var replied, neatly nibbling apart another morsel of fish.

"Of course, Captain." Abebech drizzled some sugar into her coffee and stirred the froth.

"I'll go over some strategies with Daria tomorrow on accelerating their learning in the sims," Will added, jotting down a note on a pad. By mutual consensus Zhen'var and Will had banned omnitool use at the dinner to avoid distractions-department heads could easily spend all night signing e-docs-and had to lead by examples.

"Thank you. Colonel?"

"No problems, Captain, though a real battle will do more than anything else to settle the differing cultures in the detachments." She grinned, as Zhen'var shook her head.

"So noted, but I am not going to try and give you one. Surgeon-Commander?"

"Oh, ah, Captain. Everything is fine in sickbay. The Mha'dorn Mental Hygienist-Lieutenant Va'tor-has established her evaluation schedule for the secure information authorizations and I have ninety percent compliance with physical standards and get-well plans for the rest."

Will leaned over to Elia. "...Do they really call them mental hygienists?"

Elia grinned. "I know it sounds bad, but she's just a therapist."

"Yes, the Dilgar have therapists. I know this is something the wider multiverse will not believe even after meeting her." The captain's voice was intensely dry as she took a sip of her tea.

"So, how long is our VIP going to be aboard?" Anna asked from her side of the table. There wasn't much else to cover at the moment, and it was odd.

"I assume until he leaves." There was a pause, before she broke into a smile. "More seriously, do they ever really tell the Fleet why they are hosting VIPs for no reason? I am sure there is some reason we do Not Need to Know."

"Yet." Will added with a cheerful grin.

"Spare us surprises," Elia gestured grandiloquently with a wry roll of her eyes.

"Oh, at least there will be excitement when we find out." Zhen'var gave a soft laugh as she replied.

The dinner turned to some lighter topics, and lingered for a while, until the officers slowly let themselves out when Zhen'var signalled it over. In the end, it was just her, Will and Abebech, Captains and XO.

"Well, Captain, quite the merry bunch. Feels almost amazing not to be thrown straight into fighting, too," Will chuckled.

"We needed it, and I am grateful. We shall be in desperate combat soon enough. Thank you for being here, both of you. You've both proven yourselves even better than your files said."

"I execute my orders, Captain," Abebech smiled. "Thank you for the endorsement, nonetheless-it does mean much to me. Will and I shall try to avoid being your Attacker mafia." The last sentence raised a chuckle from her fellow Commander.

"Well, thank you for that! I disagree, profoundly, with how they're organized. We are one crew, one ship in two hulls, and should be inseparable."

"I concur. It is an idiosyncratic operational system which comes down to a good personal relationship between the three of us to be successful."

"The good news is that I think we have one. Other ships are not nearly so lucky. Have a good evening, Commanders. I have the usual drudgery of daily reports to finish."

"Thank you," they chorused, and rose, leaving Zhen'var alone to retire to her ready room and cabin.

* * *

It would be shortly after she had settled down when the chime activated on the door and the computer provided that slightly-too-helpful introduction. "Governor Ari'shan of Tira."

The Dilgar woman frowned as she triggered the unlock from her console, forcing herself to rise to her feet with a soft groan under her breath. "Governor. What brings you here so late?" Datapads and holo-displays covered the desk in neat stacks before her as she waved the lights marginally brighter.

"Captain Zhen'var," he stepped in politely, remaining standing. "My apologies, but the final details of my mission came through, and I wanted to inform you immediately."

"Go ahead, Governor. Sit, please." Her look was more than a bit wary. "It does not involve you flying a starfighter, does it?"

"Certainly not. It's part of a diplomatic effort," he answered, moving to sit as offered. "As you may recall, I made friends with many of the Earth Alliance Intelligence personnel who debriefed me after my capture."

"I do." She felt her face still slightly, almost involuntarily. Anything involving Earth was still an intensely raw nerve. "I am suspecting I see where this is going, but, please, continue."

"You certainly are well-aware of the reality that tensions between the Allied Systems and the Earth Alliance are at an all-time high… It was your mother who explained to me many of the moral principles that are the basis of our government's legitimate criticism of the Earth Alliance, in fact. There is a fear these could escalate, and a desire to prevent it-a desire which is fervently held by EAI. They're trying to reach out to me to arrange a series of informal talks to discuss issues between our nations and reduce tensions at the institutional level."

"The deep state indeed… very well, Your Excellency. What do you need from _Huáscar_?" She took in the information and accepted it, without making any comment of how awkward it was for her.

"I'm not sure who had the idea of using your ship, Captain," Ari'shan offered, perceptive enough to see the unspoken comment. "You will just host talks on the frontier with claimed Earth Alliance space. It is only ten hours by warp, and their ship should arrive eight hours after that, roughly, from the intelligence message I just received."

"Perhaps someone who does not want the talks to succeed. Very well, Excellency. I will brief Fei'nur to have security measures in place, and we'll keep to a moderate speed to not raise suspicions from others, but I will be briefing my senior officers first thing in the ship's morning."

* * *

Hangar operations was located in a build-out that the earlier members of the class lacked, a sponsoned, windowed control tower molded into the hull lines on the starboard side above the main dorsal hangar as an additional hull blister. There, Chief Warrant Officer Anastasia "Stasia" Héen was queen of the void in the immediate vicinity of the _Huáscar_ , dishing it out to the pilots with her handleless navy mug in one hand and microphone on her headset pressed not-quite to her lips in her light blue starfighter forces uniform, the septum ring as a personalized touch from her Tlingit ancestry. Her voice brooked the steady confidence of a civilian professional, handling the operations like air traffic control, the impersonal voice of God, between slugs of the dubious coffee made from an actual pot in PriFly rather than a replicator.

Surrounded by glass, windows to give a 360 degree view of the dorsal surface, crew working at a dozen screens that processed anything from sensor displays to control boards for monitoring space utilization inside of the hangars, it was second only to main engineering as a place of apparent action on the ship. It also offered the perfect place for Ari'shan to watch his son.

"Do you have the waypoints confirmed, Sir?" Stasia glanced over to Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu, the ship's Astrogation Officer.

"Confirmed and set," Arterus repeated from his temporary console. "You are free to execute, Airboss."

"WC-50 Actual," Stasia keyed the channel over to reach out to the commander-on-scene of the 50th Naval Flight Wing, Lar'shan, "you are clear for grid area epsilon-43, repeated epsilon-43. Navigation waypoints set and locked for high energy manoeuvring. I have placed recovery shuttles in epsilon-42 station ninety-alpha and epsilon-38 station seventy-foxtrot, over. Proceed at your discretion."

"Huáscar PriFly, this is WC-50 Actual. Commencing high energy manoeuvres through grid area epsilon-43. The squadron is now manoeuvring according to engagement waypoint pattern. I read epsilon-42, epsilon-38 as locked and nav on all fighters confirming restrictions."

"Restrictions verified and set. You are clear, WC-50 Actual. Huáscar PriFly out."

Ari'shan watched the holotank in PriFly that was, now that the wing had rapidly moved beyond visual range, his only image of what was going on. He watched as the fighters blossomed in a half-a-hundred directions and began a series of manoeuvres, not for combat, but just to practice deconfliction and close-quarters handling without collisions. His son was there, directing them all.

"He's a damned fine pilot, Sir," Stasia remarked as she watched the holotank herself, old-style headset dangling-she wanted to avoid the sometimes imperfect computer-directed voice pickup in a operations room that had a dozen people. Also, it was a tool of the trade.

Ari'shan smiled up to the taller human woman. "I wouldn't go around denying that."

"He speaks in glowing tones about you, Sir. Damned fine pilot yourself, I would think?"

"...That, perhaps, he needs to do less of."

Arterus stepped up to the older Dilgar ace's side. "I confess, from the way he does, Sir, it seems like you should have been given your own wing or two for Germania simply by asking."

Ari'shan smiled, in a way Stasia interpreted as wan. "Perhaps it is so, but I am getting old, and don't have any flight time since the Line. Reflexes ultimately grow slow, and I've never commanded a warship. Or even served in the operating crew of one."

Perhaps it could have been left at that, but instead he continued, his eyes never leaving the holotank even as he spoke of something unrelated to his son's manoeuvres. "It was also a delicate time on Tira, and they needed someone of the Old Imperium to guide them into our future. War Expert Fiy'jash was … Unwell, and the Warmaster wanted me. At the end, I spoke at length with my mate and with the Warmaster's eldest daughter Battlemaster Tia'jhur and we agreed that, as odd it is for me, my place was there, not in the cockpit. This is a time for my son's glories."

"To everything there is a season," Stasia murmured, and then turned aside to deal with something.

"It's hard to admit there's a time when the front-rank is no longer for you," Arterus remarked. "Few would be able to overcome the vanity."

"Well," Ari'shan laughed, "Front-line service, yes. But not completely. As the civilian governor I am fortunately not supreme commander of the defence force, which lets me serve in the reserves as a Wing Commander for one of our aerospace fighter wings. I expect I might still do a little to even the odds for the reservists."

Considering the man's reputation, Arterus couldn't help but laugh. He expected Ari'shan would do altogether much more than 'even the odds'. There was something very Rihannsu in the unassuming, droll tone to an expectation of mayhem that sentence had promised. He liked the man.

Then an alarm trilled and Stasia jerked to the side, studying the holo. "Distortion in Epsilon-39 - that's a jump point. Block it off as an incoming."

"Incoming, Epsilon-39," one of her plotters repeated.

"WC-50 Actual," Stasia toggled her line to Lar'shan's fighter. "We have incoming. Keep your wing clear of Epsilon-39 and stand by for orders from Huáscar Actual."

* * *

The ship that arrived was an Omega, as yet unmodified. She ran close to the border after leaving hyperspace and her thrusters fired and fired again to line her up to tread along the imaginary line in space. Zhen'var came up to the bridge a minute later.

"Captain," Elia came to attention. "The ship is the EAS _Charybdis_. It appears that the Governor's friend is ready to come aboard by shuttle."

"Very well. Signal our readiness to receive them in the main bay." Zhen'var gave a wary look to the tactical display. So they've sent an Omega, and not one of the ones that would let us see their progress at multiversal adaptation. "Colonel Fei'nur, get your teams ready to meet them. I do not want Earth Alliance Intelligence to learn too much avoidable."

"Understood, Captain!" The Dilgar woman stiffened to attention, before starting to move to the lift. She was still not used to the rank, but then with her promotion to Battlemaster on the same day as Zhen'var, she wasn't used to her Dilgar rank either.

"Commander Saumarez, please, lead the side party so she can concentrate on the security arrangements."

"Understood, Captain. Do I stand relieved?"

"You stand relieved, Commander. This is Captain Zhen'var, I have the deck and the conn."

Around Elia the bridge remained a well-oiled machine, seamlessly moving from her direction to the Captain's. She caught a second turbolift belowdecks, leaving behind the starship for the uncertainties of the surface. The shuttle took long enough that she had enough time to quickly switch from duty wear into full dress whites. Confirming that the shuttle was two minutes out, she headed from her quarters and took another turbolift to the main hangar.

The commander of their Marines and security forces was standing ready for her, having thrown on a light combat rig. Fei'nur was intimidating even in a state of perfect peace. "Commander, I'll be keeping an eye out for any infiltrators, and have escorts available for the party. They'll follow your direction, though Lieutenant Har'un will be the tactical lead if anything goes wrong."

Elia headed for Fei'nur, though she blinked at the combat rig. "Colonel Fei'nur, they're heading in now. Are we ready?"

"We are. Don't worry, Commander, just an old woman's paranoia." She shifted on her feet a bit, and there was a momentary shimmer as the harness disappeared.

"It's your judgement." Elia flashed a smile and a gloved thumbs up before walking out into the bay. "Just as long as the side party isn't rolling hot, right?"

"Don't worry, I have missile teams for that!" It was said with a laugh as the side party assembled.

The LSO had programmed the computer to display Earth Alliance standard landing signals for the shuttle's approach, and the Christmas Tree flashed with the instructions. The ACHO was already re-spotting several shuttles with manoeuvring dolleys to make sure that the fighters could be recovered successfully despite the big EA atmospheric shuttle sitting in the VIP position in the main hangar.

The shuttle came to a stop smoothly, whomever was piloting was quite veteran at it. As the hatch to the shuttle lowered, the bosun's whistle blew. An older man walked down the ramp, and Elia immediately tensed. Even she recognised who it was instantly.

"Permission to come aboard?"

She cleared her throat and presented a neutral smile. "Permission granted. Director O'Leary, welcome to the ASV _Huáscar_. I am Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez, Ship's Operations Officer. This is Lieutenant Colonel Fei'nur, FMF Commander _Huáscar_. Governor Ari'shan will be in Conference Suite Two."

Fei'nur considered not giving one of the men most responsible for the loss of the Dilgar War a death glare of homicidal intent to be one of her greatest efforts of self-control in recent memory, for her part, as she stared resolutely and blankly ahead.

"...Lieutenant Commander," Francis O'Leary answered stiffly, looking at the gloves, and the Flying Eye of Dilgar telepaths being worn on a human. "I understand this must have been a surprise for everyone involved," he allowed after a moment, nodding in Fei'nur's direction. "Colonel."

"I'm pleased to do my part for pacific relations between our nations, Director," Elia answered diplomatically. She could feel the eyes on her from the group of EAI personnel who had followed Francis O'Leary down the ramp. With the eyes came a smattering of thoughts from insulting to obscene; none were new. "Right this way."

As they walked, one of O'Leary's subordinates couldn't help it. "You think you'd take off those gloves now that you have the chance," she said, sotto-voice.

The response she wanted to give, would you kindly take off your panties and flash us? had been one she had never yet vocalised in her life. She had been raised from a young age to de-escalate situations with Mundanes, not escalate them. "Some things are worth keeping because they work best, Miss…"

"Sara Danvers, Lieutenant Commander," she answered sharply, as if the rank itself were something of an embarrassment or a joke. Even strictly restraining herself, Elia knew that in fact both thoughts were true.

"Be polite, Sara," Director O'Leary's voice interrupted from behind. "I'm the one with the most complaints against the Corps and that doesn't give me, or you, reason to be impolite to the Operations Officer here and her ship. They're all Ari's friends."

"Of course, Director," she replied, ruffled.

Elia wondered, for a moment, what it meant to be in someone's good graces solely because of their alien friend. The fact that she was on only that basis had been made very clear. She shrugged lightly. Professionalism helped. "Director, I've arranged to have Chief Ashley Sherrod organise refreshments in the conference suite with the Food Management Team, and she'll be waiting to make sure everything is right, and depart on your request. She's our PAO lead and also has responsibility for coordinating VIP space, so if any of you choose not to return to your ship for the evening she can make sure Billeting has suites arranged."

"That's unlikely, as nice as the digs probably are on your ship, Lieutenant Commander," he answered, sincerely bemused. "I'll need to return to the Charybdis on a regular basis for secure communications."

"Understood, Director. The Air Boss, Chief Warrant Anastasia Héen, has orders to clear your shuttle upon the request of anyone in your group. Just ask and you can cycle through. And of course we've been cleared to hold station on the frontier for as long as necessary."

"We'll certainly avail ourselves of it. Is the Captain going to be attending?"

"At the request of yourself and Governor Ari'shan only."

"Well, we'll check up on Ari first." On reaching the Conference suite, Director O'Leary stepped in with no further ado. His staff followed in a cluster - and one of them pressed the door-close pad as they stepped in.

Elia came up short as she watched the door close in her face on her own ship. In a sense it was a relief, since it ended her exposure to their minds. "I suppose you will," she muttered after a moment, and then stepped to the side and activated her omnitool. "Captain, this Lieutenant Commander Saumarez. Our guest is nobody less than Director O'Leary of EAI. He wanted a private meet and greet with the Governor, but you should probably expect to be down here shortly."

"Understood, Commander. Take a short spell in the wardroom, then I will hand the deck to you when you arrive back on the bridge. Thank you."

Elia deactivated the comm channel. Too bad this isn't an Aubrey-Maturin novel, then I could make it a wet lunch. Of course, that didn't stop the Dilgar crew.

* * *

Zhen'var's omnitool was trilling an incoming message just a few hours later. "Captain Zhen'var, Governor Ari'shan here. Director O'Leary has requested your presence."

"Understood, Your Excellency. I should be down in about fifteen minutes?" Her voice was calm, as she rose from her desk.

"That will be fine, Captain," Ari'shan replied.

Well, that took less time than I was expecting. Let us see just what the director wants… She schooled her face to blankness when she stepped out of the lift, walking to the Conference suite. "Your Excellency, I am here."

"This way," Ari'shan offered with a smile. One of the Food Management Team members was putting out snacks in one of the small, side conference rooms. "Francis, Captain Zhen'var."

Every. Single. Eye in the room was on her. Francis himself betrayed no emotion, but several of his subordinates were veritably transfixed.

Zhen'var didn't hesitate, only moved to offer her hand. "Director O'Leary."

"Captain Zhen'var. Ari was explaining to me some of the complexity of your relationship with the Alliance of Systems. And just catching up." He shook her head readily enough, meeting her catlike eyes levelly. "Tira sounds lovely, I'll have to visit after I retire."

"It is, Director. Rohric has its' own charms, though I understand why you would be unwilling to subject yourself to them." There was a hint of challenge in her eyes as she said it, though none showed in her voice. "I am glad to hear that you two have such a strong friendship despite recent travails."

"I opposed the forced relocation, it's not in the best interests of the Earth Alliance," Director O'Leary answered. "Come on, let's sit. We do have a lot to discuss. I'd extend that to complimenting Warmaster Shai'jhur's bloody-minded brilliance in laying low on Rohric, but unfortunately we do have some more serious matters to concern ourselves with."

She moved to sit, then, finally giving the others in the room a quick once-over. "Of course, Director. What seems to be the matters at hand?"

"Well, first of all, I just want to verify what Ari'shan said-it's important to have it for the record, you understand-that despite the fact you are not a legal Alliance citizen, you have the right to function on the behest of its government, like a Consul."

"As long as I hold command of this ship and am not actively under direct command of a superior officer, that statement is correct, Director."

"That's good enough for me. So, the first thing is that I just want to be emphatic that we don't have a long term problem over the Dilgar. Our allies might, but Earth doesn't. Our points of friction are purely with the Alliance and have come primarily over competing territorial claims and issues with," his expression was a bit pained, "criminals fleeing Earth Alliance space."

"Criminals, Director?" Zhen'var's face reflected the honest confusion she felt. On her patrols in the League when she'd served in Earthforce, she'd never heard anything of the like before.

"Telepaths, Captain. There is a serious issue with unregistered telepaths leaving the Earth Alliance. The government has come under pressure from Psi-Corps to find a solution. I wanted to act pre-emptively to try and strategize a solution which will reflect our best interests."

"Would not that be an Earthforce function, Director? Certainly, it is a matter of concern for Geneva, I would think." And the Free Colony is a bit problematic, depending on what you are wanting from me.

"Let's be clear, Captain. Personally, I understand someone's striving to be free. I've seen what Psi-Corps is, and I've lost friends I respected to their actions in regimes of dubious legality. But I am here to make sure that Earth's interests are communicated clearly to the Alliance of Systems and that I have an opportunity to report to President Luchenko on how we might begin to de-escalate tensions between our countries. That's what this is about. Well, one of the biggest tensions is created by the feeling in certain parts of EarthGov that you have a giant terrorist camp in your space right now." Francis O'Leary was playing a double-game, his opposition to Psi-Corps he was making clear even as he carefully maintained the government line, and in principle it offered an opportunity.

"I understand why they would think that, Director. Some matters, I will need to consult with Portland before opening discussions upon, but attacks on Corps assets are unacceptable terrorist activities. If they are happening, and supported from within Alliance space, we will certainly move against such actors."

"I know you'll have to consult, and that's fine. EAI doesn't have the longest leash, either, we're just here because of the connections. However, I think we might just be the best-placed people to see a path to a solut…" he trailed off as his comm trilled. "Major Johansen, what's worth the interruption?" Barely the moment he'd said it, Francis stiffened almost imperceptibly.

He offered a smile to Zhen'var a moment later. It didn't reach his eyes. "Captain, I'm going to have to return to the Charybdis for consultations right now, in fact. We'll reach out to you when we're ready to resume, but based on shipboard time here, I'll give it at least nine hours so you can sleep."

Zhen'var felt a slight flicker of worry at his expression. "Understood, Director, nine hours. That will not be a concern."

* * *

Of all the people that Zhen'var had expected to be woken up by after only two hours of sleep, her science officer was lower on the list than most. But Lieutenant Commander Fera'xero's voice sounded urgent through the comms. "Captain, I was watching ISN to learn more about human culture in this universe, and there is breaking news. A major terrorist attack just occurred on Mars. However, I believe the footage is at least several hours old and has been subject to editing."

Zhen'var kept rolling, straight out of bed. She tried to think of what would be the easiest place to display the footage. "Computer, summon all off-duty department heads and senior officers to the Wardroom."

"Acknowledged," the mechanical voice droned back.

Damn it all, this is a poor omen.

A large collection of sleepy people, humans, Dilgar, other species, had assembled at the directive, since the ship's time meant most of the Department Heads were off duty. Will had the conn, though, so the XO was absent. Abebech had brought along the department heads of the Heermann, three human men and the very proper looking Lieutenant Ca'elia who had put herself together even in the middle of the night.

"Good… well, calling it a morning is rather a joke at this point. Commander Fera'Xero has some footage for us to view. There has apparently been a major terrorist attack on Mars, several hours ago. I have already requested information from higher echelons on the details involved."

Fera'Xero himself activated the holo-projector, zooming in to ISN. It was still in full coverage mode, nominally 'live'. Someone had a drone camera which was showing a prominent hole in the side of a Martian dome, about mid-point.

Anna stepped forward and insistently traced it with her finger. "Commander Fera'xero, do you agree it's bowed outwards?"

"Yes, and not enough difference in atmospheric pressure to make it a result of the depressurisation, either. Internal blast, but," he used his omnitool to scroll back through the images he had recorded. "Here's one that came externally, and there are reports of atmospheric raiders operating against the domes. This is dreadfully unfortunate, the Martians justly fear a dome-breach as we do a suit-breach."

"Free Mars, even the radical ones who do not agree with any remaining ties with Earth, would never strike big domes as that, and especially not with atmospheric raiders. Clark's strikes on the domes would be far too raw. Do we have any information on the targets?"

"The first Dome was a habitation, but the second one Fera'xero showed," a tired Elia with bloodshot eyes spoke, fixed on the images, now showing ships manoeuvring as someone talked about evacuations, "the one attacked by atmospheric raiders, I mean. That was a Psi-Corps facility."

"Damnation." Zhen'var growled, looking balefully at the screen for a long moment as she gathered her thoughts from a fatigued and scattered brain."It is my belief that the second target was the primary aim, and I am concerned by the Earth delegation bringing up a worry that the Alliance was harbouring 'terrorists' in the Free Colony. Thoughts, my fellow Huáscareños?"

"We're about to be accused of supporting a terrorist attack," Nah'dur said very matter-of-factly.

"Concur," Abebech added.

"But why Mars?" Goodenough ran a hand through his long hair and stared at the screen in frustration. "All right, why Mars? It's a foreign country to Earth these days here. I thought."

Elia groaned and squeezed her gloved hands before moving to sit. "Allow me to explain to our comrades, Captain?" The wardroom attended some informality, even in the moment.

"Please do. Not everyone has the same background. While you do, I need to send some urgent follow-up messages. The now very urgent risk is that the Alliance has harboured the planners of this attack, unintentionally."

Elia grimaced, feeling the worries and confusion around her. "Of course, Captain." As Zhen'var left, she looked around at her colleagues. "Comrades, Mars was granted independence at the point of the bayonet, in the immediate aftermath of the Civil War. But the independence is incomplete. Several critical services are managed through Earth. Technically in fact Mars only has representation in the ISA, it relies on the ISA for foreign representation."

"And one of these services is the Psi-Corps, Elia?" Abebech looked down, having remained standing. She was as composed as Ca'elia.

"...Yes," Elia said after a frustrated pause. She knew Abebech was a telepath, couldn't prove it, wasn't her business necessarily, but she wanted some support as she thought of the civilians who would have been inevitably swept up in the attack on the installation. Like, basically all of them…

"So, an attack on Psi-Corps on Mars." Jonathan Goodenough fiddled his fingers. "A weak point in their campaign against the Corps? The government has the power to disband it, might be more receptive?"

"It's possible," Nah'dur kicked her feet onto a chair, and looked back and forth between the door and the replicator, unable to decide if she wanted to give up sleeping or immediately return to bed. "Go where control over telepaths is weakest, where opposition to the Corps exists because it's seen as 'Earth', hit it hard there. Except, there's a lot of Martian civilian casualties, so why would anyone be well-inclined toward telepaths after the attack? Something about this doesn't make sense."

"Psi-Corps is more than a government department," Elia replied, clearly uncomfortable. "It's a culture, a home, a people, with their own language, their own culture, their own standards. I wouldn't, you know, we don't talk about it, but these gloves, I could no more take them off than an observant Muslimah take off her headscarf. So Psi-Corps invested heavily in retaining its influence on Mars, because Marsie telepaths are still telepaths. They're closer to the rest of us than to other Marsies."

"This entire thing is a set-up, El'sau," Nah'dur said, using the Dilgar-form of Elia's name and yawning. "I'm just not sure who's behind it yet. We'll get our orders soon?"

"I imagine so, Surgeon-Commander," Abebech said. "But they might well involve remaining in place and doing nothing. In fact, I am almost certain of that. We would need a request from the Martian government… And even then, the EA would push back."

"And they might accuse of us of doing it anyway, it appears," Fera'Xero added.

"Quite. Oh, in fact, certainly," Abebech elaborated. "The Byron Free Colony opens us to the charge if we are correct. Ah well. Comrades, I suggest you all get some sleep, we will have duties tomorrow."

The Department Heads and senior officers filed out, slowly, until it was just Elia and Abebech left. Elia looked steadily at Abebech, at the foreign woman from S0T5, with her gloves and her glasses. "They're killing us," she said softly. "It's begun."

"You will find," Abebech replied with a gentle, sad smile, "that this is a more common store for Espers than you could imagine. If only it were not so."

Elia closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened them, they confirmed what her senses had already told her. Abebech was gone, and she kept a tight lock on her own mind that it was usually like she wasn't really there. Elia was alone. So very, very alone. Stretching her hands, she got up, unable to even think about sleeping, and wandered out to find Va'tor. She needed someone.

* * *

The Chai came out of the replicator to the side of the great painting of Captain Grau. It was as hot and delicious as one could ask for, as good as anything Zhen'var could remember from a Chaiwalla back in Mangaluru as a child. She understood nothing of the snobbery of some folks about replicator rations. Earthforce's had taught her to love the convenience and variety now at her fingertips, even as her body still adjusted to the diet Nah'dur had given her.

As she reached her desk, the workstation pinged an income message on the priority secure channel. Her reports to headquarters had been taken seriously, and urgently. She let out a soft sigh as she reached for the teacup, tapping the acceptance button with her other hand. Stimulants this time of ship's day were quite necessary for what promised to be a very intense conversation.

"Captain Zhen'var," a man in Gersallian civilian dress meeted her. "I'm Feraiju, the Admiralty Foreign Ministry Liason. Thank you for your very prompt report. The government of the Earth Alliance had revealed nothing and we were uncertain of how widely this was being reported by Geneva until you confirmed it was actually being broadcast galactically."

"I do not believe in assuming my superiors have information in my possession unless they have already indicated so. It is my belief based upon personal experience, that this may prove a matter of political crises that will drag in the Alliance for any of several reasons as enumerated in my report." Taking a sip of her tea, she focused on the screen. "Mars has a very complex relationship with Earthgov. The Psi Corps even more so."

"That is quite…" Feraiju shook his head wryly. "I understand, Captain, that the closest equivalent anyone has been able to find is the Irish Free State between 1922 - 1931, amongst human examples."

"An understatement, yes. I do not expect the situation to go predictably, nor calmly. I have briefed my senior officers, and we are standing ready for any of the multitude of possibilities."

"Nothing at the moment, you will receive any directives from your chain of command when they are decided, Captain. However, I can tell you that there are problems on Mars as a result of the damage that are serious enough that Marsies are actually seeking temporary shelter elsewhere in Earthspace. This is apparently quite irregular and the reason for these temporary refugees, the kind of damage Mars has suffered, has not been made clear. We're seeking out permission to provide aid to the Mars government, and you will be updated on that. They key thing right now is that the Earth Alliance is actually refusing requests to grant temporary shelter."

"I can understand why they would not do so. The gravity issue would loom high over any refugees, Luna has always been loyalist by comparison to Mars, and public opinion on Earth is not exactly pro-Mars, it has not been since the Minbari War. As to the irregularity and damage… There were always rumours about black sites on Mars, but I can't see why anyone would attack an old weapons depot with that level of collateral damage at risk."

"There is much about the attack which is not at all clear yet. Has the Director of EAI withdrawn, or is there any other indication the private talks have been cancelled?"

"He withdrew for consultations with his government. I expect talks to resume in approximately four hours, but in this situation, I would not expect a great deal from them."

"Understood, Captain. Hold the line on the fact that we freely accept telepath immigration. I find it interesting that the Director has not seen the situation as one meriting his return to Geneva. Of course, terrorism is intolerable and unacceptable."

"It is rather more complex…" She trailed off, and shook her head. "I understand my instructions and shall carry them out. I will request reports to support the position that we are attempting to prevent any such crimes, in the event they attempt an ambush with their own reports."

"Understood. They will be prepared, Captain. You can expect to hear more details in the morning from your chain of command, and I will report on our conversation to the Foreign Ministry and attempt to continue coordination with the appropriate contacts from the EA, ISA and Martian Government. I believe that's all, Captain."


	2. Dramatis Personae

**Posting Schedule, Teaser and Dramatis Personae:**

 **Episode 1 - "Matters of Honour" -** 12 Oct '18  
The Crew of the _Huáscar_ is assembled and promptly put into an uncomfortable position as loyalties and ideologies are tested against the unsolvable knot of the Telepath Question in E5B1; Commander Saumarez is put to the test on the question of Psi-Corps versus the political objectives of the Alliance Government, as the Telepath Resistance presents itself with a stunning terrorist attack on Mars.

 **Episode 2 - "God Bless the Ottoman Empire" -** 3 Nov '18  
In the wake of the fall of the savage and horrifying Nazi Reich, former Nazi subject races are locked in bitter ethnic struggles as the terrible legacy of Nazi divide-and-conquer rule. On the world of Drachenfeldt the liberated peoples engage in ruthless reprisals against the German minority while arming to fight against each other for control of the world. Into the toxic mix, the _Huáscar_ holds the high ground in a peacekeeping mission bedeviled by genocidal radicals eager for ethnic cleansing, threatening to go hot at any moment!

 **Episode 3 - "Case Armageddon"** \- 17 Nov '18  
During explorations of a newly discovered universe, Commander Abebech Imra makes a single impulsive decision over an Earth with an utterly unique history which alters its fate and course forever. In a heartbeat, the _Huáscar_ is plunged into the heart of Case Armageddon: The objective, to stop the killing in a state of savage total war!

 **Episode 4 - "The Border Patrol" -** 1 Dec '18  
Deployed on a routine mission to serve as the Guardship for an Alliance member world in the notorious Triangle region of S5T3, Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu finds out that his cousin, the Pretender to the vacant throne of the Romulan Star Empire, is being threatened by the Tal Shiar on a remote world in the Triangle. He requests permission to launch a mission to save her as the _Huáscar_ stands poised on a knife-edge for combat while around them the threat of the Alliance tumbling down into total war runs them ragged.

 **Episode 5 - "Big Iron"** \- 15 Dec '18.  
Hunting clues in a universe where humanity appears extinct, the _Huáscar_ finds herself confronted with a desperate uprising in a troubled star cluster against a totalitarian government that is guilty of brutal experimentation against its own people. Commander Saumarez organises a mission to rescue experimental telepaths from the heart of government territory as Captain Zhen'var prepares to unleash the Big Iron on her hip - the mighty _Huáscar_!

 **Episode 6 - "Principles"** \- 29 Dec '18  
Operating in Universe S0T5, the _Huáscar_ is pressed into an unlikely alliance with NEUROM to save a planet of Espers from genocide. The morality and principles of the crew and their loyalty to their orders and government will be put to the edge as they collaborate with the murderous totalitarians of the Ministry of Fate toward the singular objective of stopping ethnic cleansing.

 **Episode 7 - "Golden Triangle"** \- 12 Jan '19  
The _Huáscar_ negotiates a withdrawal by the League of the North in A2M6 from a planet wracked with a bitter insurgency against the Colonial troops of the League, just to find the insurgency has been funding itself with horrifying drugs, bringing the Aururian Empire calling to assert order and put to the test the distinction between ideology and law in Alliance policy.

Schedule for the second half of the season will be decided later.

Some character introductions, in order of seniority:

Captain (substantive Battlemaster) Zhen'var, f/k/a/ Zhengli Varma - adopted daughter of the legendary explorer Captain and Tulu kshatriya Kaveri Varma. She commanded the EAS _Huáscar_ during the Tira Crisis in episodes 3-5 and 3-6 of the main series. After the mutiny by her XO which led to her being locked up, she had a nervous breakdown but still managed to regain control of her ship and help win the Battle of Tira against League forces determined to finish off the Dilgar survivors. The Earth government refused to sanction her actions, so the _Huáscar_ traveled to Tira, where part of the crew took Union of Tira and Rohric (Modern Dilgar state) citizenship and part immigrated to the Alliance. The psychological impact of this experience led to her seeking out surgical modification into a Dilgar, which her much younger stepsister (her mother having married the Dilgar Warmaster Shai'jhur on the basis of their wartime relationship) Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur assisted with retroviral treatments to make at least partially into genetic fact. Considered insane by many, Shai'jhur gave her command of a lend-lease cruiser during the Reich War and, convinced of her stability for command, Admiral Maran was impressed upon to give her the new _Huáscar_ in a joint-crewed ship as a gesture of Dilgar-Alliance friendship.

Colonel (substantive Battlemaster) Fei'nur - Commander of the Marine Regiment on the _Huáscar,_ she is the last survivor of Warmaster Jha'dur's famed Corps of Spectres, the genetically, biochemically and cybernetically modified shadow assassins of the Dilgar Imperium. Every single other remaining Spectre was killed in operations around the Battle of Third Balos, but Fei'nur was more stable than the other Spectres, who had been mostly recruited from broken men, those who had killed their officers, serial killers, and other psychopaths. Fei'nur was a regular Dilgar recruit who had improbably killed an entire squad of Drazi in hand-to-hand combat with an entrenching tool. She was too badly wounded to ever be returned to service or even have much of a life, but with Jha'dur's Spectre modifications could return to the field and the Dilgar War. Having the practical perspective of a ranker, she realised the situation was lost and escaped to do SERE on the surface of Balos, where she survived on stolen rations and sometimes eating bodies, staying quiet and only murdering when needed to, until she could escape to look for other Dilgar resisters. Unfortunately her escape was too late to warn Warmaster Shai'jhur about Omelos' sun. She was responsible for organising the stealth evacuation of less than two million survivors from Omelos in the short hours between the withdrawal of the League and the sun decoupling. Had a brief relationship with Warmaster Shai'jhur in the aftermath of that which they are both embarassed about but which helped keep her from killing herself. Helped raise Shai'jhur's children, but in Dilgar, who lack an effective psychological mechanism to classify non-biologically related Dilgar as relatives, that hasn't stopped Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur (homosexuality being biologically mediated in Dilgar like in humans, she got it from Shai'jhur) from having a massive crush on her that she doesn't reciprocate, the girl literally being young enough to be her kit.

Commander Abebech Imra - a formidable mercenary from the weird S0T5 (Solarian/NEUROM/Fracture) universe who personally takes great advantage of the lax uniform regulations of the Alliance. Is perpetually seen in public in sunglasses and gloves and with sharply pulled back hair. Is probably of Ethiopian or Eritrean extraction. Dignified, cultured, and utterly fearless, her attacker the ASV _Heermann_ is named after a WW2 Destroyer famous for its actions at the Battle off Samar and is the attached parasite ship of the _Huáscar._ Does not talk about her background. Lt. Commander Saumarez suspects she is an Esper, which is common in S0T5, but Imra is profoundly isolate for one. The strict disciplinarian is nonetheless a brilliant shiphandler who has already established a long record of success. She helped in the rescue of Lt. Commander Fera'xero and other slaves from a Batarian cruiser while on the _MacArthur,_ an old dreadnought given by one of the Alliance member states to the new Federal Navy, along with Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv. The _MacArthur_ was lost in action against the Reich and Imra was the ranking officer who led the survivors of the crew in SERE against Reich attempts to capture or execute them.

Commander (substantive Colonel) Will Atreiad - Colonial Navy officer on the _Galactica_ under Admiral Adama who was responsible for a critical part of the operations against the Cylons during 3-02. Transferred to the Alliance due to the fact the Colonial Navy only has two ships in service ( _Galactica, Pegasus_ ). Was given command of the _Koenig_ when Commander Zach Carey was removed as a medical casualty and participated in operations with the _Aurora_ and during the final months of the war against the Nazi Reich. _Huáscar_ 's XO. Has some measure of survivor's guilt over the fact he has a comparatively intact family on New Caprica (Secundus). Token blue-eyed blonde white male.

Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur - Daughter of Warmaster Shai'jhur and a Distant Relative of Warmaster Jha'dur, the auburn-haired Dilgar is barely more than a teenager, but is already a qualified shiphandler and a Surgeon-Commander, a military specialist doctor in Dilgar terminology. She is the Chief Medical Officer of the _Huáscar_ and a highly talented geneticist and surgeon. She is very pleased with the trust placed in her by the Krogan to engineer a cure to the genophage, and loves biological tinkering, including that which turned her older stepsister into a proper Dilgar. She feels that the Alliance medical establishment is incompetent and has been unable to adapt to the true potential of combining medical technology and talent from dozens of universes, so she's going to do it herself. Because of her complicated single-mother upbringing, she idolises Fei'nur in a somewhat inappropriate way and wants to establish a political organisation to encourage solidarity between felinoid species. Is very enthusiastic about the Old Imperium Days and sometimes evidences a bit less of a moral code than her elder sisters. Got promoted too fast.

Lt. Commander Anna Poniatowska - former Engineer of the _Koenig,_ Anna Poniatowska is an 1850s Szlachta woman and descendant of a King of Poland, from the Russian dominated Kingdom of Congress Poland whose family was exiled to Siberia for opposing the Tsar, where the crew of the _Aurora_ rescued her before the _Aurora_ was even in service. She is the Chief Engineer of the ASV _Huáscar,_ having used a combination of Darglan neural flash-learning ("brain wave infusions") and the practical, hands-on experience of working for none other than Engineering Captain Montgomery Scott to educate herself in modern Alliance technology and become a competent and detail-oriented Engineer. With her homeworld a postapocalyptic nightmare after the attacks by the _Avenger_ she is not sure if she has any living relatives and is part of the "Victorian" contingent of refugees from 1850s Earth on the _Huáscar._

Lt. Commander (substantive Battle Expert) Elia Saumarez - was the P-9/10 military department telepath of Psi-Corps on the EAS _Huáscar._ Zhen'var was the only person in the crew who reliably treated her like a human being, and they became friends. At considerable risk to her own life because the Corps would have to disavow her for involving herself in abrratry and politics, she participated in the mutiny against Major Foster that led to Zhen'var regaining control of the EAS _Huáscar_ at Tira, and was critical in its success. Zhen'var made her an Acting Ensign in Earthforce at that point-one of the reasons for the disavowal of her actions by EarthGov. Elia immigrated to Dilgar space with Zhen'var, where she joined the Mha'dorn, the Dilgar telepath organisation, and the Rohrican military. She stayed with Zhen'var, and when Zhen'var accepted commander of the ASV _Huáscar,_ went ahead of her to be the commander of the naval acceptance team for the Alliance for the _Huáscar_ and the commander of her plankowners. Was a first-rate Cricketeer who could have played professionally on the women's circuit if telepaths weren't banned from professional sport in the Earth Alliance. Is a descendant of the famous Saumarez (also spelled Sausmarez or Sausmares) family of the Channel Islands including a direct descendant of Admiral James Baron Saumarez of Algeciras, and grew up reading Aubrey-Maturin and Hornblower novellas and always wanting to serve in the Navy, another thing that telepaths were banned from doing in the Earth Alliance. She still feels loyal to Mother and Father, which makes others uncomfortable. Has a child in the Corps who she gladly left to the cadres because never wanted children or marriage, and a loveless marriage she actually went to the effort of obtaining a rare divorce inside the Corps over.

Lt. Commander Fera'xero - Quarian who on pilgrimage was enslaved by Batarians and forced to work as a machinist even though he was a scientist in training. Developed a way to modulate the FTL drive to send a distress signal, which was found by the ASV _MacArthur,_ which rescued him and the other slaves in the crew of a Batarian cruiser. The rescuers included Commander Abebech Imra and Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv, the later before she transferred to the _Aurora._ Is a highly capable scientist who maintains a side-hobby in watching foreign popular broadcasts and is a source of information for the crew. Quietly grieves over the loss of the _MacArthur_ against the Reich and is very committed to the Alliance's ideals and personally to Abebech and Daria as some of the few survivors of those who saved him from slavery.

Major (Substantive Battle Expert) Lar'shan - Eldest son of legendary Dilgar Champion Battle Expert (now promoted to Battlemaster by Warmaster Shai'jhur) Ari'shan, the famed Dilgar knight of the spaceways and one of the few Dilgar pilots who could use a Thorun to fight a Starfury. Ari'shan became governor of New Eden and afterwards, mated and had a family there. Lar'shan was taught to fly in a reproduction Sopwith Camel trainer that his father's friends arranged for his father and him to have since otherwise the Dilgar on New Eden (circa 50,000) were banned from spaceflight. Eager to prove himself and unfailingly polite, his upbringing means he has more of a connection to humans than most of the Dilgar aboard the _Huáscar_. He fought in action during the later months of the Reich War and is already an ace against the Reich space forces when assigned as wing commander to the _Huáscar_ , where he is the subordinate in flight operations to Commander Imra.

Lt. Commander Jonathan Goodenough - A _Gunner_ (Warrant Officer and head of the Gunner's Mates, who were Petty Officers) in the Royal Navy of the 1850s. The Royal Navy offered him an opportunity for a stable career as a mulatto man from the West Indies in the era. In the chaos caused by first the _Aurora_ and then the _Avenger_ led to Goodenough falling in with the _Aurora_ 's crew before contact with the planet was cut off. He went through education and brain-wave infusions on New Liberty and then joined the new Alliance Stellar Navy where he served on several ships before, with the Reich War raging, he became the XO of the Attacker _Heermann._ Abebech Imra appreciates his rigid, mid-19th century approach to the naval profession, and he respects her competence and iron will, uniting the talents of a woman from thousands of years in the future and a man who literally served under one of Nelson's officers early in his two-decade career in the Victorian Royal Navy. The multiverse is wild, dizzying, and sometimes uncomfortable, but people still form navies and fight in ships, so he's got something to do. Wears his hair in a long early-19th century sailor's pony tail still, and like the Dilgar and Imra thinks the Alliance uniforms are ridiculously plain.

These are the senior commissioned officers. The Department Heads and senior warrants and noncoms will follow.

Character Introductions, Continued:

Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv - A cross-trained tactical and security officer and Dorei woman faithful to the Goddess, she participated in the rescue of Fera'xero on the _MacArthur_ before transferring to the _Aurora_ before the _MacArthur_ was lost in action against the Reich. She grew up in a rural, humble family in a high mountain vale far from the great temples, which is part of why she wasn't discovered as a sensitive to the path of light (swevyra in Gersallian) until much later, when her abilities manifest under stress while fighting Cybermen on the _Aurora_ during the orbital portion of the Battle of Canary Wharf. She then spent several months studying at a temple before deciding her course in life was to continue serving as an officer in the Alliance. Feeling overwhelmed at times by the attitudes of the crew of the _Huáscar,_ she's been trying to fit in while striving to follow the path of her Goddess as a sensitive once she was, to her surprise, assigned to the new _Huáscar_ on her return as the head of the Tactical Department (Weapons).

Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu - Cousin of the Pretender to the Romulan (Rihannsu) Star Empire's vacant throne and descendant of the legendary Ael t'Rllaillieu, first and last Empress of the Rihannsu. He briefly served in the Rihannsu military before being forced out by the Tal Shiar, who planned to permanently eliminate the Imperial family's descendants. With the help of a human woman operating under the code name "Charlotte Corday", he helped his cousin escape from Rihannsu space to the Triangle. Once there, she encouraged him to seek his honour and glory by serving in the Alliance military against the Reich, to which assented and enlisted for officer's training and served in action in the last months of the war against the Reich. He was assigned as the _Huáscar_ 's Astrogator.

Lieutenant Abel Veeringen - The Chief Engineer of the _Heermann,_ he is an assiduously competent engineering genius from a long multi-generational shipboard family in D3R1's Colonies, and is stereotypically a fanatical libertarian. Abebech tolerates him because he is very, very good at his job. Commander Goodenough wonders why he "talks about bloody economics" all the time. Something of a loner compared to the rest of the crew, he doesn't care who or what you are, but he is very worried about the tendency of nanny-statism in the Alliance. This manages to occasionally irritate even Abebech.

Lieutenant Violeta Arterria - Sirian mild gene-mod woman who joined the Alliance out of idealism from one of the Sirian worlds in L2M1, the Alliance capital's universe. Was a helm ensign on the _Aurora_ for a sustained period of time before being promoted to Lieutenant and put in commander of the _Huáscar_ 's helm rotation. A self-described nerd with an interest in holo-games she's found the fit under Zhen'var's extremely military leadership to be somewhat rough, but has from the start performed well as a capable helmswoman and good leader of her detachment. Caterina Delgado's ex-girlfriend.

Lieutenant (substantive Combat Master) Va'tor - Ship's Mental Hygienist. Many human crewers are uncomfortable with going to the Mental Hygienist, but Va'tor, a Mha'dorn professionally trained on Tira, is happy to help anyone of any race be their personal mental best with any psychosurgery and integrative therapy required to fix their problems and help them fit into their society and responsibilities in life. She's a bit confused about why humans have such a disorderly view of mental hygiene when they are the creators of the legendary lockstep fleet which broke her people in the Dilgar War.

Lieutenant Abdulmajid Mehmet - often incorrectly shortened to Abdulmehmet, he bears this with bemusement. Another 1850s refugee, this time from the Ottoman Empire, he, like Abel, keeps to himself, but his a bit wild and melodramatic in combat. And very, very gay. He makes no secret that he thinks Commander Goodenough is cute, with the Commander wishing the Turk would mind his damned business. The _Heermann_ 's tactical officer, Abebech tolerates his quirks for his respective demeanour to _her_ and his extreme competence at his job.

Lieutenant (substantive Combat Master) Ca'elia - Helmswoman of the _Heermann,_ this Dilgar woman from New Eden was raised on 20th and 21st century British movies by Police Inspector Martha Whittaker, a Scotland Yard Detective who was responsible for training the Dilgar police force of Ari'shan's Governorate. Since the Dilgar there were not allowed lethal weapons, she was skilled in the use of batons, stun guns, morph gas projectors, glue guns, sonic guns, and water cannon, as well as martial arts. Her great love however was the sea, and she took the name Catherine Amelia and created a detailed persona as a Brit while commanding the sole Police Cutter the Dilgar had on the seas of New Eden. She is a highly disciplined, stiff-necked eager go-getter who could compete at the Olympic level in gymnastics if she ever had the chance and fits Abebech Imra's command style perfectly, having already proved herself a highly capable helmswoman.

Ensign (substantive Combat Captain) Aur'ma - a tactical officer on the _Huáscar,_ Aur'ma is an Islander, a Valangar, one of the few noticeable (surviving) Dilgar ethnicities. Like Warmaster Jha'dur's flag captain, Battlemaster An'jash, she is a silver-blonde furred and haired Dilgar with violet/pink eyes, but in bone structure a Prime Dilgar, which is what saved the population of her peoples' native islands from genocide. The only Islander on New Eden, she was raised by Ca'elia's mother as a rare act of decency toward an orphan encouraged by the human occupational authorities, and occupies a definite space of her own as Ca'elia's exasperating goofy little sister. By the present she is part of a community of around 1,900 surviving Islanders trying to keep their unique culture alive among the other Rohrican and Tiran Dilgar.

Chief Warrant Officer Anastasia Héen - The highest ranking warrant officer on the _Huáscar_ and _Heermann,_ she is from the same Earth as the Alliance founders. A down on her luck mariner who had had her fishing purse seiner foreclosed on after trying to fish for a living after being laid off from the Alaska Maritime Highway System, Robert Dale's cousin Beth Rankin had brought her into the facility solely because she needed a job That Badly and had been Beth's friend for a while before the Darglan Facility was found. A highly experienced civilian Mate on Automobile Ferries in the Alaskan Inside Passage, with an unrestricted 3,000 ton Master's license, she still never served as an officer on the _Aurora_ because she didn't want the unimaginable responsibility of a ship that could single-handedly nuke the planet. Instead, she served as the ship's Chief of the Boat, a position where she felt ignored by the _Aurora_ 's command staff, ultimately requesting a transfer to a shore training establishment to help train the massive intake of volunteers during the Reich War. She was promoted to Master Chief Warrant Officer after completing Air Operations Training and is essentially the Chief Air Traffic Controller for the _Huáscar,_ managing both on-deck handling of parasite craft and traffic control and fighter direction duties in space as "The Queen of PriFly". Her background is indigenous Tlingit, Raven Moiety, and she is a strict teetotler and a (very badly) lapsed Russian Orthodox Christian. "Just call me Stasia". Usually found with a 24-oz replicated knockoff of a classic Alaskan beverage, the "drive-up stand latte".

Master Chief Petty Officer Richard "Rick" Dugan - The Bosun's Mate from the EAS _Huáscar_ , he was a twenty-year veteran of Earthforce who had joined up after getting laid off from his job as a Fuel Cell Repair Technician and then proceeded to stay loyal to Captain Zhen'var during the mutiny at the cost of his career and his home, and then joined up with the Alliance after the Tira Crisis because "If you can't kill Nazis, who can you kill, man?". A caucasian with sandy brown hair with flecks of gray and an utterly impressive 80s Cop mustache, he is the Chief of the Boat on the _Huáscar,_ the ranking Noncom. Good professional friends with Stasia Héen, the two Chiefs make sure that the ship runs like a Navy vessel whatever the hell the wishy-washy Alliance regs say, and try to keep the Dilgar ratings' illegal stills under control. Master of the knife-hand and capable of terrorizing any rating into a pile of goo without opening himself to an EEO complaint, he has purely blue collar interests, respects Captain Zhen'var despite the fact she went a little crazy, and is never found without a 32-ounce coffee in hand. In combat he stands ready with the critical and highly dangerous EVA Damage Control squad. Says Stasia drinks fancy coffee because she's a girl. She started brewing pots of diner coffee in a real dinner coffee machine in PriFly in retaliation. Was friends with Elia on the old _Huáscar_ and still calls her "Leather" when he can get away with it, except now with "Ma'am" added, in reference to her gloves.


	3. Act 2

**Act 2**

The next morning, despite everything, the _Charybdis_ requested permission for the negotiating team to return. Quickly given, Zhen'var had the opportunity now to assemble a proper team in the suite and await Director O'Leary's arrival with Ari'shan.

She was already slowly pacing after last night's conversation and the lack of sleep after it, turning to glance at the others in the room after each circuit. Her friend, Elia Saumarez, the keen wit of the ship's surgeon, Ari'shan himself, Lieutenant Seldayiv for her training in interpersonal negotiations, and from the _Heersman_ , Jonathan Goodenough. It was a real team this time, and it would hopefully be good enough.

"Excellency, did you have time to read the briefing file I sent you this morning?"

"Ah yes, I did," Ari'shan smiled. "I learned to actually read briefing files a very long time ago. It's quite unfortunate," his expression turned serious, "what's happened on Mars. I'm surprised Francis wasn't called back to Earth for it, in fact."

"That, Governor Ari'shan, is actually a matter of some concern to myself, along with several of my officers. We _might_ have had such problems with Rohric in the distant future, if not for what happened, but Mars… something is not as it seems."

"I agree that you're right about the nature of this attack. It doesn't fit with the Earth-Mars conflict," Ari'shan answered. "At all."

"It's a Signature Attack," Nah'dur said softly. "The damage to other domes is just to demonstrate what their capabilities are. I think it's only the Psi-Corps attack that matters. I think you need to look at this as a four-body problem: Earth, Psi-Corps, Mars, and the terrorists."

Elia grew very quiet, her face pensive.

"A four body problem gives me unfortunate memories of West Point. All right, everyone, they will be here in a few minutes. If it is four groups, we _must_ be cautious, and expect the Earth team to behave unpredictably. The ground of this negotiation is no longer solid."

Goodenough stepped quietly over to Nah'dur's side, hands behind his back. "You mean, Surgeon-Commander, that the lack of Earth Alliance casualties means they regard Earth and Psi-Corps as separate?"

"Precisely," Nah'dur whispered. Then they both stiffened to attention, as the doors opened. Fei'nur was leading Director O'Leary and his team in.

Zhen'var's face broke into a natural, if reserved, smile as she turned, offering her hand. "Director O'Leary, welcome back. I wish it was under better circumstances, we have seen the ISN broadcast. You have our sympathies for those injured and killed in such a barbaric act."

"Thank you for your sympathies," Francis replied, a bit stiffly. "However, most should be directed to the Government of Mars. We are of course concerned about human life on Mars, but the reality is they chose their own direction and in doing so put themselves outside of the umbrella of protection that our intelligence services and military forces could offer to them."

"Of course, Director O'Leary. Please, make yourselves comfortable. These events clearly add some urgency to our conversations."

They set, and introductions passed around the table. When they got to Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, the Director shot her an extended look that hardly passed unnoticed. She returned it levelly, auburn hair framing her calm face. "Director?"

"...Nothing, Surgeon-Commander. Just surprised at the family resemblance."

"Moving on, Director, we have Commander Jonathan Goodenough, as well as Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv. You met Colonel Fei'nur and Commander Saumarez yesterday."

"Yes, I did," he answered, and looked sharply at Saumarez. "You know, Captain, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but it's considered bad faith for one side to have a telepath present when the other does not."

"The Mha'dorn are very well represented amongst those who volunteered to serve with the Alliance, Director. Commander Saumarez is my Operations officer, and is present in that capacity."

Director O'Leary's level look was not impressed. "Captain Zhen'var, that isn't the issue. I'm glad that Commander Saumarez is in fact able to be an officer here. I'm sure she is happier than she would have ever been at home. We have issues, but my private opinions on those are not the facts of the matter. Quite frankly, I have a friend who is a telepath, my best friend died saving the life of a telepath who mattered a great deal to him. Personally, in a show of respect to a naval officer, I would accept her word of honour she isn't using her abilities as an advantage against us."

Daria looked like she knew what he was going to say next, and the silent expression that she gave to Zhen'var warned her, sucking in her breath…

"...But," Francis continued, "the reality is that if I went back to Earth and told them-and not telling them isn't an option-they would discount and discredit the negotiations entirely on the fact that a telepath was physically present in the room, and all that we might have accomplished would be ruined by that fact alone. In the interests of international peace we should accept that reality and act accordingly. I need Commander Saumarez to leave the conference suite."

Zhen'var _stiffened_ , her hackles raised, and she was silent for a long several seconds, her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally spoke, voice flatly calm. "The Union of Allied Systems does not presume to accept without negotiation _dictates_ placed to it by representatives of the Earth Alliance, Director O'Leary."

"Okay, we're doing it that way." Francis rubbed his face. He wasn't a professional diplomat himself. "Ari? I'd remind you that I came here to talk to _you._ "

"Director, you came here to negotiate with the Allied Systems," Ari replied levelly. "That their culture and laws permit telepaths to sit at their tables as equals is perhaps something…"

"Ari, I know!" Francis was frustrated, showing in red on his broad Irish face. "It isn't about that. Damnit, we've been friends for years, you know that. It's about our talks having any kind of credibility at all with the Government."

"You _knew_ the Alliance has telepaths in many roles, Director. Why is not there at least a Commercial or Military Division telepath here to make, as the corporations say, a 'level' negotiation?" Zhen'var pressed.

"These negotiations were not meant to involve the Corps," Francis replied, and shot another hard, long stare at Elia, including her gloves. "Ari, just the two of us, please."

"Your Excellency?" Zhen'var looked to Ari'shan - from her point of view, the question was all-or-nothing. Without _her_ , the negotiations from the Allied Systems side were on much shakier ground.

"Francis, you taught me too well what human rights mean. No. The telepaths are in the room or we don't talk." Ari'shan's expression was curious, an inner steel flickering in his eyes. "If you won't compromising with the Clarkists still in the government this wouldn't be happening."

"You're a better man than I am, Ari'shan." With that, and a weary sigh, Francis got up, and his delegation did as well. _None_ of them were taking it as well as the Director was, and the intensity of the emotions had Elia pale and drawn. "Talks will only resume when appropriate conditions have been met. We need to return to the _Charybdis_ at this time."

"Farewell, Director. Colonel Fei'nur, escort Director O'Leary and his party to their shuttle." Zhen'var's expression remained studiously blank. As soon as the hatch closed, she let out a soft sigh. "That was _bizarre_. Elia, the only way that makes _any_ sense is if they think you are a foreign agent inside the Alliance… _and_ that they do not see the Corps as part of Earthgov." Her expression was _pained_.

Nah'dur looked around slowly. "This relates to what Commander Goodenough and I were discussing, Captain. The attackers didn't see the Psi-Corps as part of EarthGov. We just spoke to the Director of EAI, who doesn't see the Psi-Corps as part of EarthGov."

"Elia," Zhen'var began, her voice quiet. "Tell War Captain Kei'tor," she referenced the head of the Mha'dorn. "Your family has _need to know_ what Director York started is coming to a head. I shall take the court-martial if higher command deems I am exceeding my authority."

"I spoke with another telepath on Deep Space Nine when I was there. He pressed me to help, but of course I was true to my oaths. Captain, he alluded to it, Markus alluded to it, and now… You are right. I believe that was an attack by the Telepath 'Resistance' transitioning into an active guerrilla force."

"A war," Goodenough added simply.

"Yes." Nah'dur stretched and rose. "And I don't think EarthGov knows what side its on."

"When it comes to preventing incipient genocide, I know what side _we_ are on. Warn them, Elia. Commander Goodenough, let Imra know, this is about to get _much_ more complicated, and likely worse before it gets better. _If_ it does. The Resistance… forgets why the Corps came into existence in the _first_ place."

She looked to Governor Ari'shan.

"Though it is hard to find the statistics, the first year after telepaths were scientifically proven to exist among Earth humanity, between murders and abortions, something like a hundred thousand to a quarter million died."

Ari'shan's head jerked. "Hunted down in the street, like a pogrom of the night-furred who had bred with the Dark Dilgar, in the days after the war with the Dark."

"Yes," Zhen'var agreed simply.

"The song of my people has been sung in both pain and pride, and the Corps was the place of our pride." Elia rose, her face ashen. "Do I stand dismissed, Captain?"

"You stand dismissed."

* * *

Elia returned to her quarters and activated a secure channel. Her interaction with the Earth Alliance team had been chilling. Francis O'Leary had been perfectly sincere and his politeness was not a show. He _really meant_ that he hoped she was well, and thought she would be happier. He wanted to end the Corps, and he wanted to do so out of moral principles. Unfortunately, that meant nothing good for Mother and Father.

She tried to think of how to send the message. It would be easiest if she were in hyperspace, of course. One of the functions of a Military Department Telepath was to communicate over extreme distances in hyperspace, she had been trained in how to do it. She could go up to PriFly and communicate across lightyears. But they were not in hyperspace and that was unlikely to happen soon, which meant using a public network, which meant passing a message that the EAI could likely read.

Except for the fact that she doubted that Markus had been to Deep Space Nine _just_ to talk to her. She tapped open the extranet connections which integrated with the subspace comms network of the United Federation of Planets, first pulling all of her clothes off above the midriff and pulling on a nondescript black blouse.

The woman who appeared on the screen was vaguely familiar. "Quark's," she said. "How can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to the proprietor, please," Elia answered with a smile. "Do tell him it's about a business venture."

"...A business venture, right. Yes, I can do that! One moment, please." She disappeared from the feed, and Elia waited.

The wait only lasted a few minutes before Quark arrived, and spent a while staring at her neckline.

"Quark, is it?" Elia pasted the same smile on her face she'd used around mundanes so many times, it certainly helped here.

"Yes. I heard you had a _business_ deal for me? Miss? I remember you, one of the gloved humans."

" _Sausmares,_ " she said, accentuating the syllables in the old Island Norman French style. "And indeed I do. Do you remember my friend Markus?"

"I _do._ " A frown. "I am not a secret agent! Legal repercussions are bad for business…"

"Unless the profit outweighs the risk. Anyway, I'll be coming back to DS9 soon and I'd _love_ to see your holosuites… So, I'm quite certain Markus and his associates will pay a _great deal_ for this information, and it's about a situation with stock, not some secret agent matter."

"Stocks are also… How much profit are we talking about?"

"The kind over which countries live and die, Quark," she gleamed. "Little for passing the message, but much more as the information broker later on. I think Markus' associates will be very interested in speaking to you. So, here's the trick. Please tell Markus that ' _The Franco-Irishman in charge of Einhart und Annhauser Industries has gone wobbly so it's time to short-sell on Effingham Aoraki._ ' And let him know it's from the girl who pulled Alice's ponytail in fifth year. That's it."

Quark repeated the message several times. Elia stretched a bit and flashed her gloves in a dainty wave. "Got it perfect," she grinned. "You're _awesome._ You were really kind to me on Deep Space Nine. I can't wait to come back and bring my _business associates._ "

Quark eyed the gloves. "I have at least five hundred holosuite programs that could _feature_ those for you…"

"And I'll be _looking forward_ to when I can see them," she said with a cheery wave, and winked before killing the comm, and sinking back onto her bed. Somehow, doing that with an alien wasn't actually as bad as dealing with a human with a telepath fetish, but it was probably solely because it wasn't in person. The shudder was still present.

* * *

The _Charybdis_ had left, and for the next day, the _Huáscar_ had patrolled the frontier as if the entire meeting had not happened. After the major terrorist attack on Mars, it seemed that an immediate recall of a major fleet asset already in the area was not in the cards.

Captain Zhen'var was not expecting the calm to _hold_ , and she had taken the border patrol as a chance to drill her crews in some of the more esoteric procedures involved in combat search and rescue, with her communications and sensor sections kept on wartime cruising conditions for any scrap of information that might yet come in.

It was like as not no surprise when Will asked her to come to the bridge at about 0400, shortly after she had woken up and before her own shift started. "Captain, we've detected a warp signature across the line in EA space."

"A _warp_ signature? Move us to Condition Two as a precaution. I am on the way." She slapped the comm unit and moved to the replicator for a spill-proof mug of chai. _That means an extra-universal ship, likely, or a free trader. Either way… this does not bode well._

On the bridge, Ensign Joanne Wilkins was at the helm, Will rose from the command chair, Elia's Gersallian second-in-command Lieutenant Orallian was at Ops. The rest of the stations were staffed with noncoms or warrants, but that would change quickly even at Condition Two - Will had recognised what she had meant, and acted accordingly, even if it wasn't actually the language used by the UAS, it was _his,_ too, and that of most of the senior crew in fact.

"I have the deck, you retain the conn. Hail them." She had a habit of leaving the junior deck officer in command of the helm, freeing herself to wrestle with other problems… like this.

"We've resolved the warp signature," Will said after their exchange of command was completed, walking over to Orallian's post at ops as the Lieutenant brought up the long-range scans. "It's a fairly typical Independent trader from S4W8 registered the _Star of Carissa,_ making Warp Factor Five. They originated from Earth, or one of the straight-shot jump-gates."

"Keep up scanning for other ships in the area." Zhen'var pressed the intercom button on the side of her chair. "Engineering, this is the Captain. Warning orders, I may ask you for full speed on short notice."

Anna had already reached her post. "Full power at your orders, Captain."

"Thank you, Engines, very well anticipated. Communications, any response to our hail as yet?"

"Getting one now, Captain… On bridge speaker?"

She gave a single nod, and forced herself to lean back in the captain's chair. _This is somehow going to make my life much harder._

"Alliance Vessel _Huáscar,_ this is the _Star of Clarissa._ We are carrying refugees from Mars, two hundred and five souls, under contract. Will we be allowed to cross the frontier?"

"Yes. You shall slow to relativistic speed and prepare to be boarded for inspection and questioning after crossing the border. Is that understood, _Star of Clarissa_?"

"We confirm, _Huáscar.._ " The message trailed off into static.

"Captain," Orallian reported from his post, Elia having arrived and standing by, but not interrupting, "jump-point forming right ahead of the _Star of Clarissa._ "

"Let me guess, they are being jammed… compare with the Earthforce standard jammers in the EW database, please."

"Fera'xero, take it," Elia directed, moving to assume the ops console.

"Confirmed, late-series refit Hyperion type Back Top set, Captain."

"Of course." Her voice sounded quite resigned as she flipped up a protective cover on her control panel and delicately pressed a demi-claw into the single red button there.

"BATTLESTATIONS! ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLESTATIONS! SET MATERIAL CONDITION ZEBRA THROUGHOUT THE SHIP! BATTLESTATIONS!" It was Elia's voice as the Operations Officer that tore through the ship, unlike the old days of having a senior NCO on the bridge do it, but otherwise it was right enough, and the _Huáscar,_ already standing at Code or Condition Yellow, came forward smartly enough.

"The Hyperion is broadcasting her peacetime IFF, Captain," Fera'xero reported a moment later. "She's brought the _Star of Clarissa_ to a halt point-oh-five parsec from the buoy-marked line of demarcation. EAS _Nerissa._ "

"She knows very well we can do nothing, but we can at least protest. Hail her, query her intentions with an _Alliance_ freighter outbound to _our_ space."

A new channel shortly opened in response to the hail and inquiry. "Lieutenant Velarro, EAS _Nerissa_ to ASV _Huáscar._ Stay on your side of the line of demarcation, I repeat, stay on your side of the line of demarcation."

"Captain Zhen'var. Repeat, _Nerissa, state your intentions_ with an _Alliance_ flagged freighter _outbound_ to _Alliance_ space."

"Stay on your side of the line of demarcation, _Huáscar._ We are exercising our sovereign rights within Earth space."

"Move us to right up to the border, XO. _Nerissa_ , we request clarification of precisely _what_ rights you are exercising."

A different voice came on the feed, but didn't identify itself. " _Huáscar,_ the _Star of Clarissa_ was engaged in passenger trade within Earth-space while only bearing permits for the transport of dry goods."

Will was quietly moving them right onto the demarcation line by impulse and then thrusters, but couldn't resist a sardonic look and shake of his head.

"Forgive me, I was unaware that the carriage of refugees intending to claim a right to remain was passenger transport. Has the Earth Alliance changed the relevant laws, _Nerissa_?" The entire ship held at the line, like a runner waiting only for the starting gun.

"The Marsies want to go back when the situation is dealt with, they're passengers taking a vacation, not refugees seeking asylum."

"If they loaded from _Mars_ , are they not an in-transit vessel through your space, that with no touching at a starport, never passes through Earth Alliance customs?" It was somewhat unfair, having a former Earthforce officer to remember the legal handbook.

"Kitty, why the hell do you even want them? Do you think your masters will let you play with them?" It was pure, speciesist baiting, and baiting was exactly the reason for it. Get the other side to cross the border first…

"Sir," Elia said after cutting the pick-up momentarily, "they haven't actually boarded the _Star of Clarissa_ yet. You have them."

Zhen'var gave a nod, and her lips pulled back in a smile. "I hope so, we _have_ rather run out of catnip." She _could_ respond to venom with biting humour, and not let the baiting affect her in the slightest.

"This is Captain Lamarck," a third, definitely female voice came over the comms. "Have all the Marsies you want. The _Star of Clarissa_ is permanently banned from Earth-space." With that, the _Nerissa_ turned on her thrusters and pulled clear of the space between the freighter and the border.

* * *

The conference room was quickly full, since it included all of the department heads. Lieutenant Violeta Arterria, the commander of the navigation section, was rubbing her face and studying a readout covering information on the galaxy. Nah'dur stretched and started munching on a plate of sugar-glazed meat sticks. Anna was sitting across from her, Fei'nur was fussing with the replicator, and Abebech sat at the Captain's right-hand side with her legs crossed and her seat kicked back, Fera'Xero studying intently to try and figure out how she had managed to prop it up. They were all still getting used to each other.

Zhen'var considered the extreme diversity of her people as she entered, holding her hand to forestall them from rising. "No, at ease." Then she moved to sit, and immediately began. "It appears to be worse than we expected, everyone. Earthforce is throwing their weight around, and has already banned _Star of Clarissa_ from their space. They've put out a Notice to Spacers that the same will apply to anyone else who transports Mars citizens without the proper paperwork. This is going to have a chilling effect, at the least, and _non_ -Alliance ships are being turned _back._ "

"So we've got an enemy… Err.. A nation that's hindering the access of refugees to shelter," Violeta said. "They're actively blocking us from helping. And we haven't received any orders, Captain?"

"I have been updating higher command, but our orders have not yet been changed from border patrol. Legally, there is little we can do to interfere inside Earth Alliance space, I fear."

Nah'dur stretched again. "Well, Captain, we've brought the refugees from the _Star of Clarissa_ onboard. Except for a few with injuries, we're just going to out-process them back aboard for the trip deeper into our space. I'm sure the _Star_ will be re-named and reflagged and traveling back to Earth in no time at all! For the most part they were in good health, and apparently the concern is an overall bulk oxygen shortage on Mars due to several cracking plants being knocked out."

"To dome-dwellers, an oxygen shortage… that explains the panic and the flight anywhere they could get tickets off-world. Luna will not take them, and Mars-born cannot handle Earth gravity well, if they even could get through, but it will cause even more anti-Earth unrest, this is a _blockade_ of an independent state."

"So how do we _help_ them? You're right, this _is_ a blockade," Anna sighed.

"Move the mountain to Mohammad," Abebech murmured.

Nah'dur, who had certainly had plenty of access to human culture from her mother, flared her eyelids. "In a pinch we can hold twenty thousands, and we can send repair parties for the cracking towers. We can go _to_ Mars!"

"How would _we_ go through Earth space when they are stopping civilian ships?" Fera'xero asked.

"Oh, that's easy. Passage from one point in your own territory to one point in the territory of a third party, through the second power, is innocent passage and protected even for warships under the laws of nations," Daria perked up from where she'd been quiet at the end of the table.

"Perhaps it's time for a freedom of navigation exercise," Abebech smiled thinly to Zhen'var.

"If you start blasting rock music at the Earthforce ships, I shall claim I do not know you." Her expression was… pained, if there was a smile. "I will urgently request permission from higher command to cross the border… if a Martian request is made, which I shall recommend should be _solicited_."

"Shall I assume _Heermann_ will un-dock to proceed in concert?"

"Not yet, but I do not expect that to last long after arrival."

"...Rock music?" Nah'dur was looking at Abebech and Zhen'var.

* * *

Zhen'var gratefully took a sip from her mug of tea as she gratefully sank into her desk chair with a soft sigh, reaching out with a hand for the keypad at her desk. Tapping through the comms menu, she sent a request for communication to Portland - accepting the queue time before anyone would answer, and starting to work at the never-ending tide of paperwork that all Captains were cursed with.

This time, the response was routed directly to the Admiralty, and came through with relatively high priority. As her operational commander, it was Maran who answered, too. "Captain Zhen'var. My staff had received and was processing your reports."

"Thank you, Admiral. I wish to request your permission to proceed to Mars if a request is received from the Martian government. I believe the situation is dire enough to risk the diplomatic conflict, and furthermore, I believe something is… _wrong_ on Mars, above what ISN is reporting. There is too much panic on the Mars-side."

"You believe there is something else going on with the situation on Mars, in fact?" Maran asked.

"There have been dome breaches before, but this did not cause the sort of panic leading to flight off-world that we see now."

"It's outside of the character of the people, in a way that makes it automatically suspicious?"

"The Mars-dwellers, Mars-born especially, are a stubborn lot. Nothing Earth could do to them would crack their love of their homeworld - several oxygen plants being knocked out is one thing, but from my experience, that should have caused unrest, but not _this_ much, if you will permit personal inference, Admiral."

"I trust your judgement on the matter. As it happens, we have already received a request for assistance via Babylon 5. Therefore, you are granted permission to proceed with all dispatch. We must uphold the legality of passage to Mars, in addition to the humanitarian concerns."

"Understood, Admiral. Are there any changes to standing orders?" She felt a jolt down her spine - a Freedom of Navigation exercise through Earth Alliance space? This was going to be… _exciting_.

"There are no changes to standing orders, Captain. Get to Mars-sphere as fast as you can. Good luck to _Huáscar._ "

Zhen'var nodded. "Of course, Admiral." As soon as the screen blinked off, she sighed and closed her eyes. _And once more unto the breach… against those who were once my comrades._

"Bridge, this is Captain Zhen'var. Maintain Condition Two, set course for Mars. All ahead full. I will brief the crew once I have made it up there." _And so the Dilgar will finally see Sol… in quite a different light than they once might have._

Even while she was walking, the _Huáscar_ crisply spun up her engines and crossed the border, surging with power below her feet. They were headed in.

* * *

During the first day, the _Huáscar_ did not face interception as she made Warp 8, avoiding systems in favour of warping her way in. The Earth Alliance had peaked at _official_ control of 43 Planetary systems and 9 non-planetary systems with jump-gates, including twenty-two habitable planets outside of Earth. This peak had been obtained since the annexation of three of the four systems in Markab space (the Descari having successfully seized the fourth). Various revelations since then had covered a bevy of secret worlds, including at least one which was naturally fully habitable.

While this did not sound large, the jump-gate system and the limitations of hyperroutes meant that in practice the space this territory covered was vast and uneven. As it was, the former Darglan space, long cut off from good hyperroutes and jump-gates, actually lay very close to Earth. It would require only 28 hours for the _Huáscar_ to reach Earth at Warp 8 from the frontier.

On her morning tour of the ship, Zhen'var found a holo-board set up in PriFly. Stasia Héen was leaning over it, entering commands to shift shuttles as the rest of her crew, including a couple of Ensigns that actually reported to her despite her being a W-series, worked on simulating strike generation.

"Captain on the Deck!"

They began to straighten, but Stasia's cool, slightly accented voice cut the motion off instantly. "Do not interrupt flight operations." Even in a simulation, that was a critical lesson everyone in the new crew had to learn quickly.

"Save standing-to for when we are not at Condition Two, everyone." Zhen'var kept her voice low, and hung back from the teams around the holo-board until they'd finished the simulation, watching the movements with the eye of a woman trying to learn as quickly as she could.

When they finished, Stasia looked up, her express casually mirthful and her hand never far from her coffee mug. "Captain." With an oval face, dark eyes and brown hair her ethnicity was indistinct but clearly not quite white; coming from the _Aurora,_ she'd taken advantage of the loose grooming standards there to show a few traditional Tlingit touches. "The good news is that we know what we're doing, in principle. The bad news is that with full rescue and recovery operations using every shuttle and troop transport we have, welcome to it taking seventy minutes to fuel, arm, spot, and launch a strike. The ship simply compromises too much to be a true carrier. Ma'am."

"They tried to make her do everything, and she is mistress of nothing, you mean. Much like the _Omega_ , I would say. Do the best you can, we will be _intensely_ hard-pressed over Mars, no matter how good or ill this goes."

"Understood, Captain." She was about to turn to something and speak to the Captain about it when alarms flared.

Zhen'var looked to the repeaters, instantly all business as she checked the situation. "Let me guess, Earthforce is here…?"

"Jump-points forming to port and starboard right ahead, Captain - but we're at Warp Eight so we're already past them…" The alarms trilled again.

"...Or not." Stasia shifted the view. It showed two of the already ugly Nova-Omegas, Novas rebuilt with artificial gravity, which had now had a cruciform of warp nacelles mounted on them to keep their gun arcs clear. Around them, the _Huáscar_ 's alarms began to sound for Condition One-Condition Red to the Alliance-as what were essentially the two most ugly ships ever put into regular commission began to close with her on either beam.

"Put the Wing on Alert Five, Chief, I need to get to the bridge before the blast doors seal." Her expression set firmly, Zhen'var turned to depart at a jog.

Stasia shouted into her mic. "ALERT FIVE, Do it! Get me Wing Commander Lar'shan and confirm his pilots understand it. ALERT FIVE."

Zhen'var reached the bridge just in time. Elia had brought the ship to stations of her own initiative and Will had reached Reserve Nav a minute before. "Captain on the Bridge!"

Elia spun and saluted. "Two Earth Alliance Dreadnoughts holding formation at Warp Eight each one hundred kiloklicks off our beams."

"Well, let us be polite. Comms, inquire as to their intentions and provide them our near-term course, we do not want an excuse for collision, after all." She had a smile, as she moved to strap herself in to her command chair.

"Aye-aye, Sir," the Dilgar CPO at comms activated the ship to ship channel and read off their course, making the request of intentions.

Elia sheepishly returned to the chair at Zhen'var's right and strapped herself in. Lieutenant Veronica Richards was at Ops. "Maintain course and heading," she ordered, acutely aware that she still had the conn.

"I have the deck. Remember, we have every right to be here, and they have every right to offend any sane person's sense of aesthetics. No, we do not need them on screen." Keeping a light attitude, for now, could avoid stress that leads to mistakes, to Zhen'var.

"Captain," the CPO at comms-his name was Bor'erj-looked over wearily. "They're insisting we come about immediately and withdraw from Earth Alliance territory."

Elia unbuckled herself again and went to ops to relieve Veronica now that she no longer had the deck.

"Give me the channel, no change in course or posture." She paused, waiting for the light to illuminate on her control panel that indicated she had the channel. "This is Captain Zhen'var of the _Huáscar_ , to whom do I have the privilege of speaking today?"

"This is Captain Ivan Mashkenov, EAS _Thaumas._ Captain Varma, treason has prospered, I see. Heave-to and take that cruiser out of our space. You in general and particular are not welcome here."

"We are engaged in innocent passage through Earth Alliance space, Captain Mashkenov, starting and ending our journey at points not under the jurisdiction of the government in Geneva. I am unable and unwilling to comply." Her expression stayed calm, though her demi-claws had pressed into the small stone strips she'd added to her command chair, to protect the finish until she developed the instinctual control a Dilgar usually learned over her claws in childhood.

"Accidents can happen in crowded space, Captain."

As he spoke, Elia tensed. She thumbed the tactical interlock - every member of the bridge crew had the ability to cut off the feed so that important messages couldn't be overheard by the enemy - "They have turned in toward us and increased speed to eight-point-one, Captain, they're making to cut us off with their warp bubbles." This was recklessly dangerous, it was clear they had little experience handling ships at warp speed.

"Conn, free helm. Manoeuvre as needed to avoid the _reckless idiot_. Cut off our course feed." She kept her expression calm, as she pressed a button marked _klaxon_ five times… into the open comm feed.

"Aye-aye, Sir." Violeta grinned tautly as she began to punch in helm commands and alter the warp geometry to shift course. The _Huáscar_ turned down, and toward starboard. As the Novas began to manoeuvre to stay interposed, she _skewed_ the bow sharply to port.

"Eight kiloklicks and closing, Captain," Lieutenant tr'Rllaillieu sang out. With the screen off, the bridge crew couldn't see it, though PriFly certainly had a bird's eye holographic view of the warp bubble indicators creeping closer.

"Bring up tactical display. Bridge to Engineering, we have some idiots in Nova-Refits trying to play tag at Warp Eight."

Daria activated the tactical display, showing the situation as the _Huáscar_ was skewing to port and the Novas were now almost interposing as they swung back hard to keep ahead.

"You can have Warp Nine at your pleasure, Captain," Anna's voice came back. "I'd rather not bump something twice our mass."

"Conn, you heard the woman, bells at your pleasure. Operations… do sound collision in case they do something _very_ stupid, please." Now Zhen'var was starting to feel a _bit_ of tension she ruthlessly suppressed any external sign of. Inexperience and arrogance was always a _dangerous_ mixture.

"Aye-aye, Captain." Violeta bucked the ship 'down' relative to the dreadnoughts hard, and then brought her velocity up.

"Four kiloklicks… Three kiloklicks," Arterus kept singing out.

Elia flashed a nervous grin. But Violeta was all concentration, bringing them up to Warp Nine, and then sharply levelling out. As they accelerated, they suddenly snapped away like a projectile.

"Twelve… Twenty." A palatable relief surged through the bridge.

Zhen'var would not let herself share it until she was sure the Earthforce ships did not have any reserves of speed, but once she was, she'd wave her hand. "Secure from collision stations. Excellent work, helm. Maintain course and speed, sensors, watch for any more ships seeking to intercept, those Novas will certainly send word ahead."

"Understood, Captain." Confirmations chorused.

Elia rose, and stepped down to her Captain's side. "Final analysis, Captain, is that they're fully shielded and engines have been substantially upgraded, but the warp drives reduce their manoeuvring to that of an ore barge, and they peaked at Warp 8.9 trying to pursue us."

"Send that with our next intelligence update to Portland, please. I would prefer not to have to ever engage them, however. Dilgar have a long-standing aversion to Novas."

* * *

After the excitement-and the General Quarters alarms-had faded away and the ship's alarm had sounded the all-clear, Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur had decided to finally go get breakfast. She went to the mess, selected a large platter of Indian-style _seekh kebab,_ in her continuing effort to understand her sister's and other-mother's culture through her stomach. _Seekh kebab_ was the easiest part to understand.

Her eyes widened when she saw Fei'nur had just sat down at a table with her own breakfast, and she promptly dashed over and moved to slide into the booth alongside her. "Good morning, Battlemaster."

Fei'nur gave the younger Dilgar a wary look for a moment, before nodding and forcing a smile. "Good morning, Surgeon-Commander. More human meat dishes to try?" Her own plate had what seemed to be a series of plastic skewers with a variety of meats grilled on them - what would have been Ogkarin street food, for the middle and bureaucratic classes.

"They had almost as many as we did, despite being omnivores," Nah'dur answered, and snuggled in a little, reaching for her thermos of _viri,_ stimulant tea. "So how many classic kinds of Ogkharin food have been successfully programmed into the replicators?"

"Forty-seven. We're working on doubling it, but there's… the problem of nobody being able to agree on exactly _what_ some of the things tasted like, especially regional or specialty dishes. We've got a lot more _noble_ dishes in there, but people like me? Nobody really saved the proper taste of a fried G'sha wing."

"I think the best strategy would be to keep altering until each person thinks they taste correct who remembers the taste. Then someone who disagrees can just cycle through the options until they get to one they agree with. It may never be exactly right, but the library of recipes would at least be there for people to enjoy, experiment, debate, centuries from now." Nah'dur curled her lips back, leaning as she ate her kebabs.

"That seems to be the only option, really. Though most of us just want to remember what the shack on the way home sold! It… we'll never have Omelos again, but too many of us _remember_ it."

"We _will,_ a little. We're going to build domes over the monuments that still stand. We'll settle the world, and it will be a symbol of our pride in the Multiverse, Fei'nur. I'm sure of it." She tried to be encouraging.

"Perhaps. And now we're going to Earth… only one Dilgar's seen it, you know. I can't talk _too_ much about it, but we had… _one_ soldier make it to Earth. The fleet that the Warmaster sent, that vanished without trace."

"It's going to be strange. Can you imagine?" She switched into a lower, softer tone. "The five cheers? The Thoruns being armed with bombs? The feeling that we are about to win? And now… Here we are. Three hours out and running hard."

"We never had that feeling after the humans came over the border to Markab, Nah'dur. _Never_. We never had hope we had a chance until Balos." Ghosts of the past danced in the old commando's eyes.

"Last night I dreamt that the Darglan homeworld had been accessible to us. It was a nice dream. Forty systems… We wouldn't have had to fight if we had been so rich."

"We would have. But it wouldn't… have been the same. Our leaders wouldn't have been as hard-pressed as they were. We couldn't admit weakness with the Drazi there… so the die was cast when the exploration efforts failed. Conquer or perish… and we failed. Dream, Nah'dur. _Please_ , dream, and _seize_ those dreams."

"I will, Fei'nur. But I hope that you have some dreams left, too." She leaned in and nuzzled at Fei'nur's arm, very briefly, though the gesture only intended to reflect the closeness of a girl who had been partly raised by her mother's bodyguard, not the more complicated feelings she felt for the Spectre.

"I keep them _very_ close, Nah'dur. Fate, and this multiverse we live in has been very cruel to my dreams." There was a wistfulness in her voice, as she gently rested a hand on the doctor's cheek for a moment.

Nah'dur smiled, and gently separated when Fei'nur removed her hand. "Well, today we get to stand tall. Humans in Sol are asking _us_ for _help._ It is the irony of the ages."

"Mars, not Earth. They are divided, and at each other's throats. If we'd known then, what we do now… perhaps it would have gone differently. Perhaps." Fei'nur fell silent; she didn't want to talk about the ghosts of the war anymore. Those silent lines of ghosts, which always made her wonder why she had survived, when more than a thousand like her, by numbers, had died, for each survivor... She shook her head, and smiled fondly at Nah'dur, and privately, was grateful for what she represented. _If only..._


	4. Act 3

**Act 3**

Zhen'var had agreed with a suggestion by Will to slow the ship to allow everyone to finish lunch before arriving in Sol. It was quite possible that they would not have the opportunity otherwise if they were forced into combat, and the potential consequences of an exhausted crew so deep in Earth Space were not pleasant to think about if they were to be sorely tried. So it was that four hours after breakfast on the _Huáscar,_ they began to approach at Warp 6. The system was a howl of activity around them as they did, with alarms, warnings, and mobilisation orders flashing from base to base, planet to planet.

"I believe, by the number of Earthforce ships swarming about, they think we are launching a one-ship invasion. Tactical, give me a sensor picture."

The tactical picture blinked into existence as Daria brought up the system image. "Captain, it strongly appears that there are energy signatures of weapons firing immediately outside of Mars sphere, in a position congruent with IFFs for a contingent of Earthforce warships."

"I want more information than that, give me high-resolution. I need to know _what_ they are firing at and _why_ , Guns."

"Two minutes to Mars sphere," Arterus called out.

Daria bent at her console with a twisted bit of a grimace as she tried to resolve the sensor picture, Elia's ops console shooting her a full spectrum analysis to interpret. "They're firing warning shots across the bows of a group of eleven small civilian merchants trying to leave Mars-space, Captain. Most have hauled out, but a group of two are proceeding onwards. One is a Solarian Republic ship, one is showing the IFF codes for Baker's Dozen in S5T3."

"Hail the merchants, ask if they need assistance… and move us in. Weapons cold, please, I am not going to give Earthforce an excuse to start shooting. Divine knows that has happened enough times in this galaxy. Call the crew to stations. Bridge to _Heerman_ , I may need to detach you to present a multi-body problem if this starts degenerating. Stand to, please."

"We are at Ready Ten, Captain, I am moving to Ready Five," Imra reported back. They used Ready for the _Heerman_ and Alert for the fighters to avoid confusion.

"Weapons cold," Daria confirmed, stiff-backed after the implicit rebuke Zhen'var had given her.

"Dropping out of warp…" Violeta warned, as the star-field shifted before them and the _Huáscar_ surged into position by the transports. The Earthforce squadron was already pulling away from the transports and positioning itself to engage the _Huáscar_ in a direction from which they would not be cut off by the great Alliance ship.

"This is the ASV _Huáscar_ to Earthforce ships, what seems to be the problem?" Zhen'var expressed such friendly openness in her voice, it _almost_ belied that the words were coming from Dilgar lips.

"This is Admiral Jason Fernandez, Earthforce. Captain Zhen'var, withdraw back into the technical 0.5-AU limit of Mars Sphere immediately. We are preventing the violation of our territorial integrity by uninspected elements, nothing more." The attempts to board or turn aside the transports had, however, completely ceased.

"I have the second freighter on comms," Lieutenant Tor'jar was at the comms post now, one of the senior officers at communication. The male Dilgar looked across the bridge, briefly overriding the audio feed. "It identifies itself as the _Star Newburg_ out of Baker's World and in irons after delivering cargo to Earth. They say they took one hundred and eighty Martians seeking safety onboard."

"Inform the _Star Newburg_ that we are willing to take the Martians aboard to permit their departure. Solarian freighter?" She pressed her comms button. "Stand-by, Admiral Fernandez, we are preparing to withdraw to Mars orbit."

"Understood, Captain," his voice came back. Zhen'var could distantly remember the man, a very Americanized Hispanic gentleman who had been a loyalist in the Civil War. Unlike the others, he didn't resort to baiting or unpleasantries, and one could almost detect a hint of relief that the _Huáscar's_ arrival had presented him with a legitimate distraction from the duty of his squadron.

Tor'jar spoke again. "Captain, _Elaria_ confirms two hundred and seven refugees aboard. Also requests transport."

"We can do both in two minutes flat with all the emergency transporters on-line, Captain," Elia said from ops, tapping the beam-up plan into action and holding it ready.

"Maximum safe rate with a healthy margin for error, Commander. _Heerman,_ it is my intention to keep you clear of refugees to preserve your freedom of action, I expect it is going to get quite crowded aboard, very quickly. Engineering, I want a volunteer team for beam-down, the sooner we reduce this pressure pushing the Martians off-planet, the less tense this entire situation shall be. And make sure to include forensics evidence, intelligence will want all the data on these terrorists we can get" She took a breath. "Admiral Fernandez, we are taking the Martians aboard, that should allow you to clear the two outbound ships by restoring their compliance with their inspected manifests, correct?"

"I will accept that interpretation," Admiral Fernandez replied. "Proceed with your operation and when the life-scanners record correct numbers the freighters will be permitted to proceed."

"The other freighters have retreated into Mars orbit already since they were halted further back," Elia noted. "I'm beginning beam-outs now."

" _Heermann_ should be launched as soon as we are in Mars orbit, Captain," Imra advised over the channel. "The bay can be sealed and used as additional emergency shelter space."

"Agreed. Welcome back to semi-independent command, Captain. As I said, I expect to be hard-pressed here. Divine willing, it we won't be down to cramming your bay full of Martians."

* * *

Nah'dur thought that, in general, the ship's "humanitarian" relief role was one of its more interesting functions. She was excited to actually get to test it. It also challenged her as Surgeon-Commander in a way a conventional Doctor might feel overwhelmed, since it was her responsibility in Zhen'var's operational plans to actually organize all of the humanitarian relief operations on the _Huáscar,_ and she had a command staff course, anyway.

She had laid out the plans for responding to each transporter in operation, to organise based on space-available to provide rations and water to everyone brought aboard on arrival, plus mats, blankets, and pillows.

To sort out the situation herself, she also contrived to beam aboard the _Star Newburg_ directly to assess if anyone needed direct medical assistance and couldn't be transported, assigning corpsmen to the other ships. The freighter was originally of Romulan construction, as best she could tell from her ship recognition guides.

Standing in front of her in the transporter room was an impressively tall woman that Nah'dur recognised as being of Vulcanoid extraction. "Miss?"

"Sophie Mankiewicz," she offered, folding her hands. "You're the Chief Medical Officer on the _Huáscar_?"

"That's absolutely correct. Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, at your service. Do you have any wounded who need transport?"

"Just a 'sec." Sophie spoke through a comm, and a moment later a second, shorter Vulcanoid woman, who also looked distinctly Japanese, stepped through the doors.

"I'm Captain Ogawa of the _Star Newburg,_ " she introduced herself. "There's absolutely nobody who can't be transported, we already treated and stabilised those with injuries onboard, I have an excellent Doctor here. So, you should probably transfer back to your ship and see to the wounded from the other vessels."

"Well, hmm. Is your doctor here? I'd at least like to get case summary files."

"Yes, she'll be along in a moment," Captain Ogawa replied, frowning. She didn't seem inclined to let Nah'dur onboard, and so the Dilgar woman paced in the transporter room.

An Andorian, of one of the more female sexes, arrived a moment later with a stack of flimsy printouts. "Case-files, ah, Doctor…"

"Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, as it is," she smiled.

"Yes, well, here you go."

Nah'dur took them, glancing through them, and on a such a small freighter was actually quite impressed with the quality. "Oh, this is indeed quite sufficient. I guess I should be leaving now," she added, a bit dumbly. But as she turned to the transporters, she slyly handed something to the Doctor.

A moment later she was gone, and the three women left in the transporter room on the ' _Star Newburg'_ stared at each other.

"Do you get the feeling she figured out a lot more than she should have?" Sophie asked uneasily.

Her Captain had a distant, thoughtful look, as if distracted by something, so it was the ship's doctor that answered. "As a matter of fact, I'm certain of it, because of all things, I was just handed a personal business card. Who still has _business cards_?"

"Presumably, Dr. Shrati," 'Captain Ogawa' answered, "Dilgar physicians whose last name is _Dur._ "

* * *

Robert Donovan and Xavier Montoya were the two Ministers of the Martian Government on hand when Zhen'var arrived at Mars Dome. Donovan was an infamous name, his original name had been Benson, but he had adopted his _nom de guerre_ legally when elected to the Provisional Government. Montoya, of course, had been a member of the collaborationist government who had turned on it during the Civil War. The two men didn't like each other, Montoya had worked in the system and Donovan was a terrorist, full stop. But Mars, for whatever reasons, had succeeded in putting both in the same coalition government.

Zhen'var decided in the circumstances it was best to arrive alone, and in full dress uniform, she did so. There was more than a little of sharp-eyed watching as people observed an honest-to-god Dilgar walking through Mars Dome and up into the Ministry Palace, an ostentatious name for a structure that, if larger and heavier, was just as prefab as everything else on Mars.

She glanced about - once, she'd been stationed on Mars for a few months, and not liked it overmuch, especially in the aftermath of the Minbari War having ratcheted tensions so highly. Now she was here as a _Dilgar_ , and an Alliance captain. Zhen'var could _feel_ people taking out small cameras for the moment, as she kept her expression studiously blank.

The guards showed her into a private meeting room in one of the upper floors of the building. Donovan and Montoya were waiting for her at a small conference table. "Captain Zhen'var," the old terrorist greeted her with a surprising kindness. "Holloran said you were solid, and she said that opinion wasn't changing, too. Have a seat."

"Thank you, I think. What seems to be the problem, sirs? I have an engineering and search team on standby to do what we can."

"We could use the engineering team immediately, we've got damage to three of our domes with loss-of-pressurization," Montoya said. "Temporary shelter is preferred, everyone wants to come back. Of course, the problem is that Earth has been… Finding excuses to make temporary evacuation very difficult. We could handle things ourselves if…"

"If it wasn't for the monsters in the tunnels," Donovan finished, shooting Montoya a sharp look. "We want your specialised technology. There was some kind of biological experiment in the extraterritorial facilities that Earth is still operating here, and it got loose. That's all we can figure out."

"I have a scout team which is ready to deploy into the tunnels at once, to determine just what is going on down there. If you will give me a location to deploy my engineering team, I can start sending down people at once to begin repairs. No other information available, either on the attack or aftermath?"

Donovan grimaced. "Get the engineering team to Achates Dome. As for the other matter, there's no _definite proof._ "

"Intelligence, however, believes it was the work of rogue telepaths," Montoya said, taking a sip of water and looking hard at his counterpart at the table. "The fourth dome attacked, the extraterritorial facility, that was Psi-Corps."

"Tensions keep growing higher, I see. Thank you, I will brief my people to be cautious." _They're hiding something…_ _I think._ "I will brief you once the situation is stabilized then, gentlemen. It appears I should get my people deployed and working as soon as possible, agreed?"

"As soon as possible. If you can go ahead and contact them now, feel free," Montoya offered.

"Give me the coordinates for deployment, and I will get the process underway. Captain Zhen'var to _Huascar_ , put the away team on alert to deploy, and start loading the engineering team aboard the shuttles. We've more than a few problems to deal with, and the quicker we resolve them, the better we will all be."

She smiled politely at the two men before her, already trying to think ahead as to just how _this_ could somehow get more complicated; assuming the worst had not led her astray yet, and she feared this would be another example.

* * *

Following Zhen'var's orders, Will had assembled the away team in one of the briefing rooms. Fei'nur, Nah'dur, Elia, Daria, based on her desire to have as much ability to handle _unusual_ events behind the group as she could.

"All right," Will grinned as he went to stand in front of the briefing table. "Other than the fact that we're going to be-what's the line, more crowded than Grand Central Station at rush hour?-in about fifteen minutes, everything looks nominal in our preparations. Unfortunately, we've got issues on the surface that go beyond just simple humanitarian relief."

"Commander?" Fei'nur tracked him from her seat at the table.

"Nah'dur has some idea, and based on Captain Zhen'var's conversations with the Mars government," he turned more serious, "there's something down in the tunnels. We don't know what it is, but…"

"The evacuees are describing monsters," Nah'dur explained crisply, rubbing her hands against the sides of her padd. "Wild, unusual monsters."

"Monsters in the Martian tunnels doesn't add up, unless they were intentionally released by the attackers," Daria remarked.

"You're exactly right. Something else is going on," Elia added, and looked sharply at Will.

"By all means, the Captain and I agree with that, Commander," Will replied. "Of course, since we're all cheerfully chiming in, I will note that the Captain has already spoken with the Martian government and they did confirm _something_ was down there. So it will be all of you, plus a squad of …"

"Marines are preferred," Fei'nur answered fast enough he didn't need to finish the sentence, though he had been kind of leaning that way anyway. "If the Martian government lets us."

Will rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't think they're going to care at this point, to be honest. They certainly didn't say anything about it one way or another."

"Good," Fei'nur smiled, tautly, perhaps the most concerned Will had ever seen her. "Then, one squad of Marines will be acceptable."

"All right. So we're all clear on the objective? Find out what's lose in the tunnels. This is recon, no need to solve the problem, we can bring heavier forces in conjunction with the Martian Government to bear to do that."

"Understood," Fei'nur nodded sharply, and maybe just a little too quick. "I will be in command?"

"You are the ranking officer, Battlemaster," Elia replied.

"Commander, depending on the situation, I will let you be the face of the landing party. I do not think there are _monsters_ in the tunnels. I have _met_ monsters in the dark, and there are not nearly enough dead for it to be anything like that." There was a sort of flat deadness in her eyes as she said it.

"Understood, Battlemaster. I will make the appropriate arrangements. Commander," Elia looked to Will. "I believe we're ready to go."

"All right then. Stand-by to beam down in twenty minutes, and you're all dismissed."

Will headed out, leaving the four of them in the room, and three of them were looking at Fei'nur, because Elia and Daria could feel that she was not well and Nah'dur had an inkling why.

"What?" Fei'nur asked them, sensing the looks and letting defensiveness bleed into her voice.

"...El'sau, Lieutenant, could you leave please?" Nah'dur asked softly.

The older Dilgar grimaced. "They are battle-comrades. They can stay, Nah'dur. I trust them." There was still an underlying tension in her voice.

Nah'dur got up and stepped over to the replicator, where she said, simply, "Computer, voice recognition for Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, Chief Medical Officer, ASV _Huáscar,_ recognition code alpha alpha bravo sierra foxtrot seven niner. Override prescription interlocks to allow replication of medical drugs and implements."

Fei'nur's eyes widened in surprise. "... Nah'dur, you _can do that?!_ You can just make it give you _drugs_? _"_

"It's not like, say, capsaicin, is substantially less complicated than sulpha, or the flavor of proteins in _seekh kebab_ less complicated than a lithium injection," Nah'dur answered, and grinned. "So it's a matter of permissions, not capability. This allows me to, say, in the case of catastrophic damage to sickbay, set up casualty clearing stations anywhere on the ship we can get a portable generator rigged and re-start a replicator."

"Replicators seem so much like _magic_ sometimes. I don't understand how people take them for granted… you're distracting me, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Nah'dur answered, interfacing with her omnitool to tap in the configuration of drug she wanted, and taking the syringe and needle after it appeared. "The Battlemaster is fit for duty, and always will be," she said flatly to Elia and Daria. "However, the reality is, this is not a good situation for her memory-wise." She walked over to Fei'nur and rested a hand on the older Dilgar woman's shoulder.

"My Warmaster would be most disappointed if I was ever unfit for duty with anything less than a large hole in my skull or massive traumatic injury elsewhere." Her eyes flickered up for a moment. " _Tunnels_. Gods, but I _hate_ tunnels." There was a _revulsion_ in the woman's voice, as she ended her sentence with a sharp hiss on the final syllable.

Elia sucked in her breath and nodded significantly, looking to Daria. "Balos."

"You would have studied the Earth side of it in school, wouldn't you? I bet they didn't talk about just how near-run it was, did they? Or when they dropped the damned _Gaim_ on us." She _shuddered_.

"Indomitable Gaim warriors cleared the tunnels one by one in bitter fighting, carefully supported by Alliance divisions," Elia recited by rote. "That's it, though. The Psi-Corps curriculum considered it to only need one line. I'm sorry, Fei'nur."

In the meantime, Nah'dur had peeled back Fei'nur's Marine uniform jacket, considerably more ornate and military than the uniforms of the line crew, and sanitized her skin. Because a disposable one-shot needle was much easier to replicate and Fei'nur had never been bothered by them, a quick jab followed.

"It is really a nice, _completely fucking_ sanitized way to say 'We dropped millions upon millions of Gaim warriors atop the Dilgar and let them physically tear everyone apart they could reach before we ever let any humans be exposed to danger'. Which is what they did, after all. We never controlled the tunnels, the _Balosians_ did. You sent in a division, you got a company back." Her gaze was distant as she felt the injection flow through her veins. "Warmaster Jha'dur won the space battle, and so Earthforce withdrew underground. Our idiotic generals didn't press them hard enough, so most got into the tunnels, aside from the rear-guards, which killed us seven to one. But it was always that way, against them. They always used the masses of materiel and guns dozens of systems and loans they'd never have to pay back let them buy to blast us apart. So we went down into the tunnels, and they kept killing us. The Warmaster wanted O'Leary, so we went in, all of us Spectres, trying to get the man who'd shattered our codes and killed millions of Dilgar. Some of us found him. They died. _Everyone died_. Shot, stabbed, tortured by Balosians, hunted for sport after the third battle in space meant everything on the surface was blasted to rubble. Not me, though. I hid. I ambushed those who came after me, made it look like booby-traps and accidents. Never let them know one of us was still alive. I took rations and water from the dead, and kept going after I couldn't even find those, as they dumped Dilgar bodies into piles and burned them. It was fair, after what we'd done to them. I kept my stealth suit working, and _I did what I had to to stay alive_." Her voice was hoarse, and her hands visibly trembled.

"Just another minute, Fei'nur," Nah'dur whispered, looking at Elia and Daria, transfixed, barely willing to breathe for fear of interrupting the moment. Nah'dur had started rubbing the commando's shoulders again after carefully re-buttoning her uniform for her. "It's one of the more interesting drugs to come out of our experimental research, back in the day. It completely removes the particular flavour of fear humans call anxiety without impacting the other, rational fears which keep you from acting recklessly. One injection can easily last thirty hours and has no side effects which impair combat ability."

"Part of my combat cocktail, but the auto-dispenser comes with several other drugs I don't need unless it's life and death."

"Also the injection version has a longer duration of action and isn't as bad on your organic bits, my friend," Nah'dur smiled. "Anyway, it has utterly no side effects, that was the point, so it doesn't down-check someone for combat, no drowsiness or lack of killing instinct. I believe we're running out of time, though, so we need to get ready…?"

"Uh, yes," Elia agreed, starting, and fingering the Mha'dorn pin on her uniform reverently, before looking to Daria, who silently nodded with a mildly stricken expression on her purple face. There was nothing to say.

"Don't worry. I'll get everyone back safely, _no matter what it takes._ I need to get my Marines ready. _"_ The trembling had passed, and Fei'nur started to look more like herself as she stood. "I'm sorry, you two, I know that could not have been pleasant to experience. I try and keep the control the Mha'dorn forced into me when the Warmaster picked me to join her, but sometimes it can be a bit too much."

"Do not ask the brave how they won, simply know they are brave because they did," Nah'dur quoted a Dilgar aphorism, and hugged Fei'nur as she went out.

* * *

Continuing to advance through the almost endless tunnels of Mars, the four officers and the squad were armed, using night-vision gear to avoid illuminating and making their presence blatantly known. The localisation had been simple: Fera'xero had simply run a regression and then a few genetic algorithms based on the residence locations of Marsies fleeing their homes who were _not_ in a damaged dome. With damaged domes excluded, they had quickly localised a worthwhile section of tunnels to search.

The tunnels mixed mining, transportation, habitation, and terraforming uses (frequently water pipes or gas systems). There were a lot of them, because it was cheaper than building a dome, and autonomous Tunnel Boring Machines could pretty much keep drilling and sealing forever. Power had been lost, but there was nothing that kept their sensors from working at close range.

It was an improvement from the last time Fei'nur had been down in a series of tunnels, as she crept ahead, invisible and silent, sending short sensor burst updates to the rest of the squad - a firm believer in having _options_ , rather than letting the other side dictate the course of events. Mask and visor protected from the dust and gave a ghostly outline of what lay ahead in pitch blackness, though this time she wasn't hunting an Earthforce general and his command staff. Every two minutes came the short _all clear_ sensor burst, as she led them deeper and deeper into the warren.

Nobody was speaking. Sound might kill, in the circumstances, so they were all staying quiet, using hand-signals when they could, the officers except Fei'nur in light tactical gear and armour, the Marines in full battle rig. With great uncertainty as to what the 'monsters' were… They quite simply had to assume the worst.

Keeping calmly wary, Fei'nur would press forward until _something_ pricked her senses, sensors, or instincts - all of those had kept her alive before, and they would again. _I won't hurt them if they won't attack me. Gods, I'm not asking too much, am I?_

For a long while, there was no response except to advance, but then they reached an area which the maps the government had given them indicated was an emergency stores prepositioning facility. As she led the way, Fei'nur felt a sudden rush of air and a strange, hideous beast of fur and scale began to form before her - but it wavered, and was indistinct, like so much of a hologram. The rigorous training she had at the ends of the Mha'dorn left her with a distinctly strange feeling touching her consciousness.

"El'sau. Telepathic illusions." It came through her subvocal mic, as she reached to her belt and flung a remote speaker into the darkness ahead, keying it as she displaced from her throwing location.

" _This is Battlemaster Fei'nur of the Dilgar Imperium! I do not wish conflict! We are not with Earth nor Mars!"_ She thought about adding 'rescue', but decided that telepaths, Corps or rogue… or _any_ humans for that matter, would be _very unlikely_ to believe a Dilgar was here to rescue them.

Elia dashed ahead at the warning, and as she came up short, the rearing monster abruptly disappeared. As she came into line of sight of the stores, around her flooded voices, minds, by the dozens. Her heart nearly stopped. They were _Young._

 _Everything is all right,_ she thought very simply and clearly. _My name is Elia Saumarez, and the Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father._ It was a glyph, not words, all telepathic communication was, but the intent was plain, the meaning clear.

Sitting down with her legs folded, she glanced up to Fei'nur, quickly.

Grimacing, Fei'nur dropped her cloak, and dropped to a crouch, holding empty hands out to her sides, and letting some of her effort to shield herself mentally fall away. Gods, she was wary and tense, but not _hostile_ , as she spoke slowly and clearly in English. "Contact appears non-hostile, form a defensive perimeter. Weapons on safe, turn your lights on. Commander El'sau has point."

As she finished speaking, the first, braver, of the children, started to step out from behind crates.

"Oh Gods, they're _kits?!"_ Fei'nur's voice expressed real surprise, as her eyes widened. "We need to get them safely _out_ of here, Commander."

"Do we ever…" Elia murmured, and brought her omnitool up. " _Huáscar Actual,_ this is Commander Saumarez. We've located the source of the problem."

"Go ahead, Commander." Zhen'var's voice crackled out of the omnitool, as she sat straighter on the bridge.

"Children, Captain. Children defending themselves. Telepath children."

There was a pause. "Understood, prepare to bring them up as soon as you can." On the bridge of _Huáscar,_ Zhen'var was grimacing, as she pressed a comms key, and spoke in Dilgar; "Surgeon-Commander, the 'monsters' are a group of telepathic children who appear to have lost their adult minders. I need you to prepare a segregated _and secured_ area for them. Have all the Mha'dorn aboard report to you, anything we can do to soothe them, the better. Do _not_ inform the Martians aboard. Questions?"

"I'll beam aboard immediately and make the preparations while El'sau arranges the transports, Captain. No questions at all." She nodded to Fei'nur, now in visual range. "Orders," she mouthed, and vanished into a swirl of the transporter.

Elia grinned and faced the kids, quickly turning the sparkly effect into a teachable moment. _All right, this is going to be an adventure. You're going to get to teleport!_

On the bridge of the _Huáscar,_ Zhen'var activated the intercom to the central security office, where Major Janice Armstrong should be subbing for Fei'nur. "Major, please come to the bridge immediately. I need to brief you on an imminent situation..."

* * *

After having gotten the first group to transport, Elia quickly worked with Fera'xero to lock down a transport position for the second concentration of 'monster attacks'. "The children are very special," she updated her team as fast as she could with what she had learned from the mental contact. "They're telepathically activated kids who have _unusual_ manifestations of psi abilities. So bear in mind, just like with the last group, they're not all there, and that's okay. They should have been raised to minimise any danger they could put others in, in a communal environment."

"Don't worry, Commander, I've been through Mha'dorn resistance training _and_ the Warmaster's laboratory. They're kits, just _special_ ones. Be open about wanting to protect them, everyone. Nothing to be afraid of." Fei'nur's voice was calm and clear, as she glanced about. "Perimeter posts, are we still clear?"

"Clear," the voices crackled back.

"Daria, ready?" Elia asked, looking ahead to where the woman was sitting on the ground ahead of her, concentrating as the last group of six children waited. A moment later they vanished in a burst of light and Daria rose as well.

"I'm ready. Transport at your command, Commander."

Elia brought up her omnitool. "Transporter Room One, beam us to Site Two."

A moment later the transporter effect bounced them straight down to the next site on Mars where they expected to find another group of the children.

As soon as she could move, Fei'nur's head was on a swivel, as she signaled her Marines to spread out. _Step one, secure the landing zone…_

Corporal Gar'akh swung out down one of the main passages. "Battlemaster," he almost immediately squawked. "We've got a party of armed humans approaching in the nine o'clock tunnel. Adults with lights."

Fei'nur immediately began running in that direction, signaling to the rest of her team; "Defensive positions! Corporal, fall back and await my arrival. Reserve fire-team, you're with Commander El'sau!" There was something profoundly _jarring_ about trying to use _authority_ rather than knives to deal with humans in a tunnel.

"Colonel, allow me?" Daria asked, falling in at her side.

"Very well, Lieutenant. I will give you the first chance." She still had her short rifle in hand as she was talking. This could go very wrong, very quickly, and she'd _promised_ to get her team back. Before coming into view, she activated her stealth suit, and vanished, moving to cover her subordinate.

Daria stepped forward, her purple-based coloring immediately marking her as an alien like none locally known, and drawing the approaching humans up to a halt. "I am Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv of the ASV _Huáscar_ and, we are here at the behest of your government. Do you need assistance?"

The men paused, but a shorter, dirty brown haired woman with them pushed forward. "Yeah, I'm Liz Maguire, and I sure as heck need assistance. There's been attacks in these tunnels, and we think they're coming from this area, the last two parties were turned back by what they thought were monsters, but we know better."

Daria remembered her deescalation training, and smiled politely. "Of course. So, these attacks, what have they been?"

"People have been getting chased by these things."

"And food is missing," a man with a salt and pepper beard added. "Hard to get food right now, and whatever is down here is overtaxing t'scrubbers, too."

"So you are looking to stop the missing food and the threats?"

"Exactly. So help us drive 'em out, whatever it is," Liz nodded firmly, and thumbed a plasma cutting torch.

"While we appreciate that the help, that would be an extremely risky endeavour. We already have a squad of marines in full armour here," Daria answered. "I can alert you when we've finished our mission?"

"I don't hear any shootin'!" the bearded man shouted. "So how the hell are your 'marines' dealing with it?!"

Daria reached out to Fei'nur. _Knife display, please._ "Oh, we have our methods."

Fei'nur ghosted into view, wavering into visibility as she did, a fighting knife flashing in her hand, giving a mocking salute to the humans with it as she did. The very nature of her suit had left her with _far_ too much experience up-close-and-personal. Weapons could be picked up on sensors, knives far less so.

Daria smiled. "I think we've got the situation perfectly well in hand," she winked, and then watched, with her arms casually folded, as the group of humans started to disperse and head back from in front of their position. She waited until they were gone a good hundred meters before speaking softly into her pickup feed.

"All right, I think we've taken care of that. Commander Saumarez, have you located the children?"

Static. Daria's eyes flashed as she spread her perception again. "Colonel, we need to get back to Elia's position _now_."

She didn't make a sound, just vanished from sight while taking off at a sprint. "Reserve team, converge on Battle Expert El'sau's position _now!_ Reports! Lieutenant, try and keep up!"

Daria managed to keep up very impressively, matching pace with Fei'nur even though she was cloaked. The distance to cover was not great, as one team of Marines assumed cover positions behind them and they tore through the tunnels. Of all the things it could be…

 _Probably not the children, but why didn't she send an alert on the comms…? By all the hells, she knows better!_

As they tore around the last corner, catching up with their reserve team just moments after they had arrived, the situation became clear. A dozen humans, much similar to the first group, were scattered around. Some were on the floor, shaking. Some were on their knees, glaring hate. Some, locked in a rictus of determination, remained in place on their feet. Weapons had dropped to the ground around them.

A group of children cowered to one side behind some crated equipment. In the centre, carefully keeping all twelve of the adults in her field of vision, Elia stood with a rictus of pain and concentration on her own face, utterly silent and completely absorbed into her task.

Fei'nur let out a snarl of rage as a telescoping club slipped into her hand. Without even decloaking, she slammed into the first target. "Stun, take them down _now_!"

Daria and the two Marines on scene needed no further prompting. They opened fire simultaneously with weapons on stun, splaying them across the human gang again and again. Another two Marines reached the position in time to join in for the last bursts.

As they did, Elia closed her eyes and staggered backwards. One of the children, a boy of about ten, broke loose from his hiding place as he did and ran straight to her, hugging her right thigh and steadying her.

"Defensive positions! Battle Expert, are you all right?!" Fei'nur flickered back into view, holstering the club, and spreading out her hands to show she was unarmed. "Lieutenant, give her Nah'dur's shot for over-stressed telepaths. Kits, it's all right! I know we're not Psi Cops, but we're here to help!"

Daria stepped over to Elia, projecting calm with her own gifts as she knelt by the woman, easing her into a sitting position back against the tunnel wall, and quickly gave her the injection through the veins on her arm after rolling her sleeve back from her glove.

Keep herself very carefully controlled, to avoid projecting to the children, Elia looked to Fei'nur. "Battlemaster," she said carefully in Dilgar, "they're not some vigilante gang. They had stun cuffs and syringes."

Fei'nur's expression got stormy at hearing _that_ , and her mental walls slammed down. "Marines, secure the prisoners. They're under arrest on suspicion of kidnapping for purposes of slave trading."

"Universal jurisdiction on that count," Daria spoke, in case anyone thought to hesitate. They didn't, and quickly secured the prisoners.

By that point, Elia had recovered enough to the point that she was coordinating beam-outs of children, 68 in all in this group, and from what she could feel, it was the last, the two groups having fully accounted for those present at the facility. That, at least, was a relief.

"Battle Expert, I want to get us all back to the ship as quickly as I can. This entire situation gives me a bad feeling, and I don't think we've shaken the sabre-cat yet."

Elia nodded in concurrence, still a bit shaky. "Transporter Control, this is Commander Saumarez. I have twelve adult signatures, no transponders, my location. Beam them directly to the brig."

"Mission successful, for now. Battlemaster Fei'nur to Transporter Control, bring the rest of us up as soon as able." When her muscles seized with the energizing of the beam, she was still frowning. _I don't like this feeling… not one bit. The sooner I get to Security Central, the better._

As they arrived, two security guards were covering the entrance to the transporter room, looking edgy. "Colonel," the transporter operator said, "We've got problems."

"Understood." Fei'nur brought her omni-tool up. "Major Armstrong, this is Colonel Fei'nur, I'm back aboard. Give me the data-dump to my rig, I'm taking command."

* * *

The arrival of the first tranche of children had initially gone off smoothly and without problems. They arrived, Nah'dur's medical teams greeted them, and then started taking them off a special set of cargo bays set off from the other refugee areas under utilization to date.

News, however, spread fast. Most of the refugees had some kind of link device connecting them to the Martian news. Or someone offhandedly mentioned where the kids had come from and why, a classic case of loose lips sinking ships that would never be definitively pinned down.

Though they were not being taken to the same locations, their paths across the ship did cross, and it was as Nah'dur was personally leading the last group that moved through the ship. As she did, a group of tired and dirty refugees who had just arrived paused, and watched the kids.

"Hey, whose kids are those?" One woman in the group asked.

"Oh, they're kids we were rescuing," Nah'dur answered, coming to a stop. "I am Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, the Chief Medical Officer. And you are..?"

"Joan Watkins. Whose kids are those? Why are kids being taken away separately like that?"

"They were rescued from the surface independently. They didn't have parents with them."

"Well, give them to us? We can take care of our own little Marsies! I mean, you're a Dilgar, whaddaya gonna do with those kids? Eat 'em!?"

Nah'dur grimaced. "Look, they're not _your_ kids, Miss Watkins." She wanted to murder the woman instead for suggesting she'd eat kits.

"Hey, Joan… I think she's on to something." A man stepped forward, rubbing at his mustache. The children in the group had stopped, and he was staring at their silent self-organisation. "They're not _our_ kids. They're those monster kids from the surface. The Psi-Corps experiments, that was the rumour, it must be true!"

"Now look here, they're not _monsters,_ they're telepaths…"

"Telepaths," Joan hissed. "Telepaths not in gloves. Little freak ones that do crazy things. We've heard about that facility. There's rumours people go in there and never come out again. Get them off your ship, Dilgar."

"No, they're safer here." Nah'dur took a measured step back. "And you all need to calm down, please, there's plenty of room for everyone, there won't be any fighting over lifeboats."

The man stepped forward, leaning into her face. "Now, see here, 'Surgeon-Commander', those things shouldn't be on the same ship as we are. They're _dangerous._ " And abruptly he shoved her back into the wall and took off down the hallway toward the kids.

He made it all of six feet before Nah'dur shot him in the back with a pistol set to stun, of course. Then she turned it on the Marsies, who didn't know about Alliance stun settings and _turned_ on her with a sudden rage.

"You said you're a doctor and you SHOT HIM? MY GOD, YOU SHOT HIM!" Joan screamed, and charged Nah'dur.

Nah'dur fired again, this time on wide-beam. And again. The group collapsed, stunned, but further down the corridor, other refugees had seen it all happen. She shouted at her omnitool. "Emergency line to the bridge - _Captain, the refugees are trying to attack the telepath children, we have a riot on our hands!"_

* * *

By the time Nah'dur had gotten back to the sickbay, Fei'nur had arrived back on the ship and received her report. Six cargo bays were in the hands of the rioters, and several security personnel had been wounded in melees with infuriated Marsies who had fled the surface just to find their 'tormentors' back among them.

"I want Marines in at least reinforced squad strength and in battle armor, security in full riot gear. Reduce the oxygen content in the cargo bays, seal them off with the blast doors. _Nobody breaks order on a Dilgar ship!_ " Her blood was up, as she started to give sharp orders to her teams to contain the Martians and protect the bays the telepath children were in, jogging to the front lines. "Attention Martian refugees! You are engaged in a riotous assembly! Disperse to your assigned cargo bays and cease attacking Alliance personnel, or _force shall be used to compel your submission! This will be your only warning!"_

A man in the front of the group she faced made an obscene gesture. "We're _Marsies,_ and you can take your _law_ and stuff it up your…"

"Open fire." The order flashed on headsets, and crackled in earpieces, the Last Spectre's expression utterly pitiless.

Glowing stun beams raked across the rioters from the entirety of the reinforced squad. They started dropping like flies, and the Marines advanced, mostly managing to not step on the stunned people, continuing to fire as fast as they could.

" _Keep your ranks, Marines_ , advance at the _half-_ step! Like you were trained! One- _two_ , one- _two_ , _do not break your ranks!_ "

The Marines shifted forward in a strange shuffling half-step which had the effect of psychologically recoilling the mob between shots. They organized _no_ effective opposition, a few objects bounced off helmets and that was it. Really, the only problem was that in another three minutes, they'd completely cleared all opposition from the corridors. Just like that, it was over. Security teams had advanced behind the protection of the Marines to restrain and stabilize the stunned Martians, Fei'nur nodding in satisfaction as she keyed her transmit button. "Captain Zhen'var, we have restored order. Transferring the riotous elements to the brig now." Clicking her transmitter off, the old marine shook her head. "And here I thought it would be _challenging_ to take this assignment."


	5. Act 4

Act 4

Anna Poniatowska had led a crew of almost 300 engineering and damage control personnel down to the surface of Mars shortly after their arrival. This was a heavy burden to the _Huáscar,_ but trained personnel were critical for the engineering phase of emergency response. The Martian government had already been into the engineering response and recovery phase when they had arrived, and that, if anything, made her just as important as Nah'dur's medical staff to the operation. They had environmental systems to fix, and physical Dome envelope repairs to be made.

Dome repairs were their own unique kind of special. A geodesic dome structure was neat, geometric, symmetrical. Beautiful to a designer. In a way, though, Anna would have preferred a solid continuous dome. It would have required a special patching structure to hold the patch composite in place, but once you controlled conditions for the cure strength, it was straightforward enough. Repairing a geodesic required having parts which fit within the standardised table.

The marsies had plenty of dome repair parts-it was one thing they had hardly run out of and never would if they could help it-but the assembly was laborious, which was Anna and her team from engineering fit in. A starship was a piece of equipment which virtually defined complexity, and engineers possessed hundreds of specialist tools for repairing damage in combat. This fit essentially the equivalent starship case of a structural bulkhead torn and exposed to space, but here the structure was not massive duranium frames sheared by heavy fire and buckled and melted plate.

Because the specialized parts took so long to fit, the idea was to create a patch first to quickly restore pressure. This seemed straightforward, except the problem was that in a geodesic structure load had to be distributed to be held, it was enormously strong but the individual pieces were weak. Put a patch on the edge of a shattered section and it would start progressive tensile failures. So Anna was working with Vera Anagnos, PE, the Facility Engineer of the Dome, to complete finite-element modeling of the structure load to finish sizing the attachment points of the dome.

Once the modeling was done-and the _Huáscar_ 's computers made this much faster-they could start rigging cables which the airtight fabric would be attached to. On the edges of the patch would be special buckles attached to the frame, which directed the cables to tightening ratchets. The ratchets would draw the patch tight while redistributing the load away from a single point, and the system was tensioned enough with a second set of circumferential cables and ratchets that the contact pressure alone would form the gas-tight seal, there were no adhesives on the edges.

"Starting the twenty-seventh iteration now. Your sensor scans of the failure region were almost _too_ precise, Anna," Vera remarked with a wry grin. "The system keeps flipping between two different ring sizes."

"We could just make the command decision to go up to the next patch size since it might be necessary anyway."

"We could," the Martian-Greek woman agreed, "but we only have one patch that big, so if we come under attack again, we'd be screwed. Unless we can finish dome reassembly in the depressurised region before then. Gonna stay around for the fun part?"

"I hope so. I want to get you all set."

"Well, it's appreciated. Marsies aren't really used to Earthers who give a damn about us, you know," Vera shrugged, and reached over for the coffee pot to give them both a refill. They were inside the emergency command trailer, and the urgency of the situation-complete with a countdown clock to when the deep survival shelters exhausted their CO2 scrubbing capacity-didn't mean there wasn't time for coffee, in fact, it made it mandatory.

"So," Vera began again as she was glancing at some of the news on a subsidiary computer screen as the model ran the next iteration. "What's up with this entire teep thing? They let these monster kids loose in the tunnels and…"

"Monster kids, Vera? Surely? They look like humans with souls to me." Anna goggled for a moment, before sighing. That was too intemperate. "Apologies, I know you…"

"Maybe I _did_ mean it," Vera replied, her face turning blank. "I don't understand who in a million years could support those monsters. Who could raise them? They could take over the minds of any parents. Who could integrate them into society?"

"I assume the Psi-Corps had a plan," Anna answered, now with a bit of heat in her voice. "Look, you have to try, you can't just abandon people."

"They were never people, they were teeps. And you're helping them instead of punishing them for terrorising Marsie civilians."

Anna grimaced. "Look, once you start dehumanising one group, you tear down the laws that protect everyone, and next up, they come for you. That _happened,_ you dehumanised telepaths and then they came for Marsies. Period. That's what happened."

"Just wait until one of them _gets in your mind,_ and then we'll see how precious your high ideals are, Alliancer. Now shut up and let's get back to work." She was clearly restraining herself from outright exploding, as frankly Mars culture favoured at that moment.

Anna grimaced tautly. All human life was valuable, including that of Marsies who were essentially racist toward Teeps. She turned back to her console, and adjusted some of the parameters. They needed a stable solution and they needed to get to work. This would all be better when the dome was re-pressurized. Maybe. She was about to go on to some forms that her omnitool told her she needed to e-sign, when another alert flashed.

"Just a second, Vera, I'm going to use the WC."

"Fine," the woman answered, uncompanionably ignoring her.

Anna stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door. "L'tenant Rutgers, what did you find?"

"Commander Poniatowska… There were _Darglan_ energy signatures in the weapons used for this attack."

* * *

The next morning, Zhen'var decided to hold a staff meeting to try and sort out the details of the chaotic events which had defined their first full day in orbit of Mars.

"Anna, thank you for ensuring nobody was shot while repairing the domes - nobody _was_ shot while repairing the domes, were they?" Zhen'var's voice came out from where her face was in her hands. _One hundred six people_ were in the brig… and the overflow brig spaces as well. She was already having nightmares about that many Ten-Eleven's, or as the lawyers called it, the _Report on the Use of Potentially Lethal Force_.

"No, Captain, nobody got shot while repairing the domes. Though there may be an accident today involving ratchet bolts going through peoples' skulls," Anna answered, cuddling her coffee cup like a lover.

Elia was trying to smile at the humour, looking at Arterus across the table from her and trying to keep her spirits up. Most of the other staff were in Anna's position, but not quite so blatant about it.

"Make sure everyone is in their PPE." She replied, deadpan to her engineer. "In all seriousness, very well done, Elia, Fei'nur, Nah'dur, all of you. Nobody was killed, the children were rescued, kidnappers were arrested. Commander, how _are_ they doing? I have all the Mha'dorn on the ship assisting, but I know most are not conversant in Earth languages without the translator, which means they are not at all easily understood via mental glyphing, yes?"

"Most have been learning with me and can maintain some kind of positive mind contact," Elia answered. "They are… The misfits of the Psi-world, they didn't fit into what EarthGov wanted out of telepaths, so the Corps was raising them here, to try and understand them and help them be functional adults. At least one is likely capable of teleporting short distances like the rumoured powers of some very old Asari Matriarchs. Most are low-level teeks."

"They are _children_ , that is what matters. Do we know if their guardians were killed or separated in the attack? I assume there is some sort of parental bond, or was… I am hoping for the second, honestly. Children need parental figures. _Diplomatically_ , of course, this is going to explode on us at any moment."

"Some of the Guardians were killed," Elia said, and rubbed her face with a gloved hand. "Captain, they were driven out into the tunnels intentionally. The telepaths who attacked the facility wanted to cause chaos on Mars."

"Well, they have succeeded. I do not think it impossible the Martian government will demand all Psi Corps facilities but Commercial ones be removed from the planet in the wake of this. They are just _children._ No matter what, Elia, we are going to keep them _safe._ You have my oath."

"Thank you, Captain, but what about the kidnapping gang we arrested on the surface?"

Daria leaned in first. "We've got to take them back for trial, of course, it's the law, we've got jurisdiction, we know the MO of these types of gangs in this universe."

"Yeah, I wouldn't care what the Martian government said to us right now," Will agreed. "We've got 'em in the brig, keep them there."

"I am not handing them over. Not after the Martian behaviour yesterday. We will hold them, and while they are off balance, I want what-ever information we can get, admissible or not. If someone is kidnapping telepaths, the Corps needs to know, as do our own law enforcement people."

"Thank you, Captain. With your permission, I need to get back to the children now. Nah'dur has them all camping out in a field-trip format in the sickbay to keep them out of the refugee zone right now."

"That… is remarkably adorable, Commander. Yes, granted. I will arrange your duty shifts to be filled as long as you are needed there. If you need me to pay a visit as part of the effort to keep them distracted… children are children." She gave a warm smile, before looking to the rest of the table. "That means the rest of you are all being given an effective bump a level up the command chain as long as Commander Sausmarez is needed in Sickbay, but you will all rise to the occasion, I am sure."

Elia left, feeling vaguely dissatisfied with herself that she had tried to be neutral about the condition of the kids. Sometimes, attitudes of old simply died hard. Behind her, with the flow of refugees having stopped, she could hear Zhen'var talking about recalling the _Heermann_ now for rest.

Zhen'var, watching her go, looked down at the information she had received from the surface. Not even here with her staff was she going to bring it up. It was for one pair of ears only.

* * *

The call from Mars Dome was not long in coming. It sounded insistently, and before long a voice from comms summoned the Captain, warning her that the Martian Directorate wanted to speak directly to her-urgently.

"I will take it in my office, thank you." Pulling on a uniform jacket, Zhen'var looked into the mirror, sighing softly as she straightened her hair. _Diplomatic crisis, check._ Sitting carefully in her chair, she tapped the key to bring the connection live. "Your Excellencies, you wished to speak with me?" She asked, with a politely rising inflection.

"Captain, you have made arrests of our people on your ship-and of our people _off_ your ship. This is, needless to say, what we expect of _Earthforce,_ " Donovan leaned in. "You have treated Mars sovereignty like so much of a wad of t-tissue."

"On suspicion of kidnapping for purposes to supply the slave trade, to the second, sir, and universal jurisdiction applies in such a situation. As to the first, any unrest aboard ship is as dangerous as that inside a dome, Excellency."

Minister Montoya folded his hands. "What's wrong with that picture? Oh right, universal jurisdiction: We have the bigger guns. I'll point out that the situation involves Psi-Corps essentially abandoning unstable children who are a safety and security threat to roam through our tunnels at will."

"An _Earth_ agency," Donovan added, "which has treated us very much like a dumping ground, this is just the latest straw."

"A _human_ agency," Zhen'var answered. "I am given to understand that casualties among those raising and guarding them were not minor. The Corps was not the ones who pushed them into the tunnel, those who breached your domes are the ones to blame."

"Be that as it may, we need to get out of this war. The Telepath Resistance should have no cause for attacking Martian targets," Montoya frowned. "Captain, do you think you've finished your little round-up?"

"We believe all the children have been rescued from the tunnels, if that is what you mean, Mister Montoya." She hid her frown at the direction this conversation was going.

"Well, make sure they don't come back," Donovan added flatly. "Captain Zhen'var, we have withdrawn permission for Psi-Corps to operate on our territory. Those are not Marsie telepaths, they're Earth telepaths, and you cannot return them to the surface under any circumstance. That decision has been voted on by the Provisional Congress of Mars and the record will be forwarded to the _Huáscar._ "

"You are making a mistake, Minister." Zhen'var's voice had gone oddly flat, as her expression froze. "This is exactly what those terrorists _wanted_ when they struck your domes."

"Mars made a mistake by agreeing to permit Psi-Corps to remain in our space to begin with. In the future, Mars telepaths will be organized by us Marsies and no outsiders from _anywhere._ Good day, Captain."

The screen blinked off before she could open her mouth to reply, and the Captain sank back with a loud groan. _Elia needs to stay with the children…_ "Captain Zhen'var to Lieutenant Va'tor, please report to my office as soon as is convenient."

The ship's mental hygienist, with her brown-blonde hair over typical Dilgar thin, dun fur, arrived a few minutes later. "Captain?" She asked. "Reporting as directed."

"With Commander El'sau occupied, you are the highest-ranking Mha'dorn officer aboard." She paused, fiddling with her hands, before forging ahead, looking up with worry deep in her feline eyes. "The Martian Government has voted to expel the Psi Corps and take control over Martian telepaths."

Va'tor inhaled sharply. "It's happening, then. The war that El'sau has feared."

"That is my fear. You may access the comms system as needed, I do not _want_ to know what plans the Mha'dorn have, but the time may have come to put them into effect. I am unsure how long it will be before we are expelled from orbit. Any questions, Lieutenant?"

"Our superiors in the Alliance… Should I even ask, Captain?"

"I shall inform them, but we cannot predict their response with certainty. I do not expect them to take it as seriously as we do."

"I will send the message immediately, then." _Before we receive contradictory orders_ was manifestly something that did not need to be said. She came to attention. "By your leave?"

"Granted, Lieutenant. May our gods smile upon us and all we do." _And Divine, but we need all the help we can get._

* * *

She couldn't escape giving a report to Admiral Maran at this stage, of course. The events had pushed the limit of a starship captain's authority, or at least, had largely defined it during humanitarian operations. This was now a _major event._ Zhen'var started to type, quickly; she preferred the ability to marshal her thoughts inherent in old-fashioned text. That did not, however, mean she was not expecting a possibly _angry_ comms message to follow very soon afterwards.

A few minutes later, the priority channel went live from Portland. However, it was Maran himself, so at least it wasn't going to be angry; it seemed the Gersallian Admiral never truly got angry.

"Admiral, sir, I had expected an urgent reply to my report. Please accept my apologies for not submitting it sooner, the situation has been both urgent and deteriorating."

"You have acted according to humanitarian principles to contain the situation, I have no complaint about your decision of when to report, Captain," he replied, his tone still mild. "As it stands, we have no interest in a conflict between the Telepath Resistance and Psi-Corps, except, of course, that it pertains to the Byron Free Colony."

"The situation has grown somewhat more dire than that, Admiral. Mars moving against the Corps will turn into a humanitarian disaster. Martian anti-telepath sentiment already caused a riot against _children_ aboard this ship, sir."

"I would caution you to at least consider that the sentiment of the Martians may as much be based on their resentment of Psi-Corps' presence as on sincere fear toward telepaths, however, I acknowledge that the situation is serious. We will be dispatching a special diplomatic team to Mars to assist their government in the drafting of legislation and to encourage them with economic incentives to comply broadly with human rights norms, and that is, of course, out of our purview in the fleet."

"I wish I shared your confidence, sir. I expect to be expelled from Martian space within the next few days, at _best_. The situation in human space here for telepaths is very poor, and a collapse of the Psi Corps… does not bear thinking about in terms of consequences."

"Many in Portland, Captain," he said, now _very_ carefully, "would consider the collapse of Psi-Corps to be a great advance in telepath rights in the Earth Alliance. Certainly, no Gersallian, who enjoys the company of his or her relatives so blessed as _farisa,_ and admits them normally to family relations and society, would regard without a tinge of horror the current situation in which the gloves and badge mark a caste devoid of rights and protections under the law. Are you certain you are not evidencing your own past in your view, Captain?"

"Yes, Admiral. I believe the Corps needs _reforms_ , but it was Earthgov who forced the telepaths into the ghetto known as Psi Corps, and steadily exerted more and more pressure that warped the entire system, before finally upending the entire basis of the Corps at the dawn of the Clarkist regime. Gersallians did not start murdering telepaths, born and unborn, as soon as the existence of them was proven. Earth _did_ , Admiral Maran. I know my position is not popular, sir, and I do not often share it, but if you read the human theory of the stages of genocide, sir, the humans in this galaxy are between the seventh and eighth stage when it comes to their own telepaths."

"And you think the Telepath Resistance will serve to enable that activity?" Maran's expression, thoughtful and serious, showed he was not disregarding the idea entirely. "The extremists, creating a justification for the genocidaires on the other side?"

"I do not think the Resistance remembers _why_ the Corps exists, and _how_ it became what it is, sir. What they have done on Mars has resulted in the removal of what few protections Martian telepaths had _left_."

"We _will_ be monitoring the solution under a genocide watch, Captain, I can assure you. In the meantime, what about the children? If the reports in the Martian press are correct, Psi-Corps has been using them for experiments, and that, of course, puts the Corps in a very different light than you would have me believe. I grant those reports may be wildly inaccurate, but the claims by refugees in the Byron Free Colony suggest it is not out of the realm of possibility."

"I intend to hold them aboard until such time as I have a sufficient understanding to make a decision, sir. I would like to speak to those who had been stationed at the dome before releasing them. If they _have_ been treated as nothing but experimental subjects, then returning them is clearly out of the question, I agree. I do not _think_ that the case, but I understand the need to prove such to the government."

"Understand that under Alliance law, Captain, it is somewhat more complicated than that. Unless you can demonstrate family reunification after an urgent disaster, their cases must be adjudicated in our family law courts for fosterage and location of living relatives."

"The Corps does not quite work in a way easily compatible with Alliance law as I understand it, sir, but I shall keep my duties _firmly_ in mind." _Somehow. Elia, what have you gotten me into **now**_ _…?_

Taking a breath, she launched into the part which both served as a riposté for Admiral Maran's feelings of moral ambiguity on the subject, and perhaps the most dangerous thing of all for Alliance involvement. Because they might, in fact, have some involvement. "Admiral, before we finish, there's one more thing I need to bring up."

"Captain?"

"There's evidence the attackers had access to Darglan weaponry…"

* * *

Due to the fights with the refugees that had resulted from the arrival of the kits, Nah'dur had ended up moving her Marsie patients to the emergency sickbay and concentrating the telepath kits in the main sickbay, all 209 of them. That had turned it into a glorified nursery, but most importantly, it had put them all in one place for Elia be present.

Nah'dur was not exactly sure what Ops was saying to the kits, but she had gotten them all calmed down from the earlier case, so whatever it was, it had worked. Surrounded by large numbers of children who were now sitting on the floor and calm, she was thankful these human kits had some of the Dilgar virtue of small kits who could sit patiently with their mothers at work all day, as long as they were rewarded with food afterwards.

She dug into lab results, keeping herself closely focused on them. The kits would just be upset by excess thinking, and she wanted some valuable calm. For all Marsies had disrespected them immensely, the sick and injured still needed their lab results and treatment plans. Nah'dur tapped a way for a while, stretching and flashing her demi-claws when the relative boredom of the assignment got to her.

After finishing up the really important ones, she switched to reviewing notes from the data that the Krogan had sent to her. Urdnot Wrex had come to trust her at some level in their correspondence after Tra'dur had introduced them and the genophage was an actual challenge. She caught herself from thinking more such idle thoughts for the sake of the telepath kits, and focused on the chemistry.

Behind her, Elia had managed to organise nap-time thanks to the supply of emergency bedrolls, mylar blankets and rubberized cover pillows from the emergency stores for humanitarian disasters. Now the children were waking up again.

"Doctor?"

Nah'dur corrected the voice without thinking of it. "Surgeon-Commander," she said idly, and then blinked widely.

"Surgeon-Commander!" The little male-child bounced to her left. "You're the ship's Chief Medical Officer, Miss Saumarez said. I'm Lucas."

"Lieutenant Commander Saumarez!" One of the girls corrected. "She gets to be an _Officer._ "

"Well, Lucas, and?"

"Betsy," the girl offered.

"She does indeed get to be an officer, and I am the Chief Medical Officer. CMO. Militaries love acronyms; my name is Nah'dur. Lucas and Betsy. Is there a reason your counterparts don't talk? Other than telepathically, I mean."

"Oh, well, I mean we're special! That's why we have a special Sigma Cadre all to ourselves. Everyone's different here."

"That is something of an understatement," Nah'dur remarked.

The words brought a quick reaction. "You're not going to hurt us like the Marsies, are you? I…" Betsy's face scrunched up.

"Aren't sure because you don't have much practice reading the intentions of aliens?" Nah'dur replied with a grin and a wink. "And _especially_ Dilgar? Why, don't worry. I happen to like the lot of you a great deal. The Martians or Marsies or whatever they call themselves are being ridiculous and you were just defending yourselves, weren't you?"

Lucas nodded widely.

"I have some experience with the concept," Nah'dur elaborated drolly.

"We never thought we'd get to meet Dilgar," he said softly.

"We're very hard to kill, little Lucas. I'm glad to be around to help you. So! ...Do you have families? Nobody was really quite sure about that."

"Oh yes, we were telling Miss-Commander Saumarez about our creche parents!"

"Creche parents, now that's an unusual practice for humans. They love you a lot, don't they?"

"Yes." Several nods came from those not speaking.

"I was starting to get the idea that was true. Very well then, I shall make this something of a day at the lab for you. I am helping a gentleman named Urdnot Wrex; his species was attacked by a half-baked, retarded little imperfect bio-weapon, and he needs a professional to eliminate the long term consequences. Fortunately for him, he got to be friends with my sister, and so here we are. Today, children, we shall learn about the genophage, and how I am going to eliminate it!"

The children giggled. Nah'dur paused for a moment and fluffed up, before continuing onwards with her example, and getting far more rapt attention. Fortunately for her she never noticed the reason for the giggles: Elia had rolled her eyes behind Nah'dur's back in friendly bemusement at the young Dilgar genius' penchant for self-confident proclamations.

Nah'dur nonetheless cheerfully led them through an educational precis reasonably well-targeted to their age groups on what a genophage was and how it could be cured, in principle. Then she declared they were all a great help to the Dilgar, and so with great seriousness, replicated a large quantity of child-sized Mha'dorn badges and passed them out to the kids to make them honorary Mha'dorn. All in all, Elia actually thought Nah'dur was surprisingly good with kids.

Regardless, the Nah'dur improv train for keeping human telepath 'kits' happy wouldn't last forever. Elia knew that politics be damned, she had to get them back to their family. As much as she didn't feel comfortable doing it, Elia took advantage of the break to go talk to someone.

She needed Commander Imra in her court.

* * *

By the evening, they had completed major dome repairs and had begun returning refugees to the surface. This considerably relieved the pressure on the ship, both in onboard space terms and in terms of having their engineering and damage control crews back up to full strength, making Elia's unique duties in sickbay a little bit easier to manage.

The respite would be short. Shortly after dinner that evening, it finally happened. Two crisp looking shuttles in formal government livery marked with the Omega of Psi Corps began approaching Mars Sphere, escorted by a flight of Earthforce Starfuries. The event brought an immediate response from the small Martian defence force, mostly armed freighters.

They scrambled toward the intrusion, running their engines hard, and this brought up an immediate set of alarms on the bridge of the _Huáscar_ where Will had the deck. He looked at the insignia on the shuttles and saw the tactical display with energy up in the capacitors on the Martian ships. That was enough.

"Hail the incoming shuttles and inform them that the Martians are rolling hot. Advise that we cannot defend them against an intrusion of Mars-Sphere. Condition One, battlestations." It was the fourth time in four days that the ship had gone to stations, each potentially in earnest.

"They have returned our signal," L'tenant Tor'jar was back at the comms bank. "Sir, they're asking if a direct approach to the _Huáscar_ will place them under our protection."

Will sucked in his breath. He didn't have time to wait even seconds for the Captain to reach the bridge with those kinds of closing rates, he had to make a decision now.

"Sir," Arterus was reporting from his console, "That Warlock at 223 Mark Four is coming about at full thrust toward the line of control."

He made his call. "Tell the Martians we'll take the Psi Corps delegation aboard to help them avoid a shoot-out with that Warlock and vector the shuttles in for landing. Warn them that we're not going to permit them to be fired upon when on a direct heading to land aboard. And _Launch Alert Five._ Get them out to cover the shuttles!"

"Aye-aye, sir!"

The moment that the order came in from the bridge, PriFly leapt into action. Stasia's voice snapped into the comms that fed the helmets of Lar'shan and the three other pilots of his flight. "Alert flight WC-50 you are _go_ for launch."

"Completing final launch checks now, PriFly Actual!" Lar'shan answered instantly, fingers punching across rows of control systems to do final launch checks. "Lead Flight, confirm final checks."

"Camel, this is Lead Two Confirm."

"Lead Three Confirm."

"Lead Four Confirm."

Lar'shan checked the green-lights across the board again. Externals had already been checked on Alert Five. His aircraft was being guided by magnetic tracks in the deck into one of the launch tubes. The _Huáscar_ was the first ship modified to have these tubes, firing directly below the primary hull. They were linked by elevators that could handle anything up to a runabout between the main hangar above them and the fighter hangar below - though bombers now spilled into the main hangar. This had increased the capacity to 72 fighters and 24 of a new design of bomber and improved handling of runabouts and shuttles, and relieved crowding on the troop transports-in theory.

One of the advantages was that the flank tubes meant for launching a full strike, which were linked to the prep bays for the fighters, were augmented by two tubes firing directly forward. These tubes and the small pad from the elevators associated with them could keep four ready fighters on standby and launch them as required, and then cycle through bombers or fighters. Unlike the other tubes, they were away from the hangar where arming and fueling occurred and so allowed both activities to happen simultaneously, at least at a low rate. These changes and the addition of PriFly were the main modifications from the standard _Enterprise_ class in the _Huáscar._

The spinning hands of the flight deck crewers indicated they were about to load the first element of the flight. Lead 3 and Lead 4 went into the tubes first. Safety hatches slammed shut behind them, allowing them to bring their engines to test holding thrust. A moment later, the signal lights turned red - two fighters had just been accelerated to 10km/s and, as they cleared the _Huáscar,_ the engines were brought to full military thrust, one fighter turning to port, one to starboard to clear the ship and each other.

Lar'shan was next in, confirming the tube was clear and safe. Once the indicator lights turned to green, he brought power up to test on his own fighter. "PriFly, Camel launching!"

"Confirm!"

The moment Stasia's voice came back, Lar'shan hit the toggle which, through the interlinks, triggered the electromagnetic accelerators. Inertial dampers compensated for the acceleration, which exceeded 400g's. A moment later he in space, banking to starboard and diving down. Somewhere behind him, Stasia would be cycling four more fighters up into Alert Five.

* * *

Captain Zhen'var appeared at the bridge hatchway, trying to keep her deep gasps for air and pounding heart under control after having sprinted from her quarters, not taking the deck until she had a clear grasp of the situation, though she immediately noted that Lar'shan and his wingman had just gone flying out the launch tubes.

"Captain, we've got two shuttles with Psi Corps markings coming in. I just vectored them for a landing and warned the Martians off from attacking. Two Earthforce ships are nearby and one, a Warlock, is coming in at full thrust on a course that will violate the Line of Control in," He glanced at his console, "five minutes."

"Captain has the deck! Hail the Warlock, inquire as to their intentions. What is her IFF, Commander?" She'd been woken up from a dead sleep and was already facing _another_ possible flashpoint.

"EAS _Styx,_ Captain!"

"Well, it could be worse. Bridge to Flight Control, two Earthforce-types shuttles coming in, clear the deck for landing. Commander Imra, as we have gotten _quite_ used to as of late, Ready Five, please."

"Ready Five, Captain, in five minutes." They had only been back onboard the _Huáscar_ for ten hours, but there was no complaint from Imra.

"Captain, this is Chief Héen. I'm spotting them in the lower troop bay with your permission, if I take them in Bay One we're limited to Alert Ten for the Wing."

"Good enough, Chief. They can accept a bit of cramped quarters for their shuttles. Move us up to the Line of Control, helm, get those shuttles aboard _now_ , before somebody does something we will all regret."

"You have full military power, Captain," Anna reported from engineering. She hadn't needed specific orders for that.

"Straight on to the LOC, half-impulse," Ensign Van'bur confirmed from the helm position, and they eased ahead to meet the shuttles. As they did, the Martians peeled away from them. The _Styx_ kept coming in, and abandoning the shuttles, they were turning toward what might be a real threat. Lar'shan and his fighters had the situation well in hand, driving sharply toward the Martians and interposing themselves, before weaving back around the much slower Starfuries and sending out the reminder that they had legally violated the LoC.

"Bring us to a stop on the Martian side of the line, Ensign. You have full freedom to manoeuvre to protect the ship without my order, but do _not_ cross that line."

They came about to port, facing the Martians, and as they did, the shuttles lined up for final approach. When they did, the Starfuries peeled off, and when the final approach tractors caught shuttles the _Warlock_ finally broke her trajectory as well. The Captain of the _Styx_ had apparently been escorting the Psi Corps group in.

"Commander, you have the deck. I am going down to meet our new 'guests' myself. Comm Lieutenant Va'tor to meet me there."

"Understood, Captain. Permission to use my discretion in standing down?"

"So granted, Commander. You have the ship. Well done, everyone." As the doors to the bridge closed behind her, Zhen'var shook her head lightly. _And to think, how long has it been since I **met**_ _a Corps member, well, aside from Elia?_ A distant memory of Talia Winters flickered for a moment. That might well be the last. She still wasn't even quite sure what had _happened_ to the woman, only that it had been a sore subject amongst the daytime command staff on Babylon 5.

* * *

When she arrived at the bay, she could see Lar'shan and his wingman come in close enough to give a waggling salute before peeling off to port and starboard to re-form aft of the _Huáscar,_ while the shuttles made their way in assisted by the landing tractors and indicator lights. Landing on their wheeled gear, they both quickly came to a stop, the design familiar for the Dilgar crewers in the bay, for it had been stolen from their people during the war and mass-produced by Earth in the subsequent decades. And out of it came the representatives of Psi Corps.

A younger man, only somewhat older than Elia, stepped out of the lead shuttle. He looked vaguely Eastern European and was dressed in a modern business suit, only the pin and gloves marked him. Following him was a woman maybe a bit more than half-decade older than Zhen'var's mother. She was fairly clearly an Anglo-Indian by Zhen'var's familarity with the ethnicities of her homeland. Behind her was a woman slightly older than she was, of indistinct but probably Latina ethnicity.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" The leading man asked.

"Granted. Welcome aboard the _Huáscar_." The Dilgar woman stepped forward, and bowed politely, offering _namaste_. "I am Captain Zhen'var, and this is Lieutenant Va'tor."

Va'tor, standing in place with the Flying Eye badge, bowed from the waist.

The man before them smiled. "I'm Marcel Szewczyk, MetaPol. Behind me is Doctor Nishita Cavanaugh, Medical Department, and Erika Flores, Legal Department. Thank you for covering us on our approach, Captain Zhen'var."

"It was my duty to avoid any incidents. Pleased to meet you, Officer Szewczyk, Doctor Cavanaugh, Miss Flores. May I offer you the ship's hospitality? The situation on Mars has degenerated drastically, I fear."

"We heard the comms on approach, Captain," Nishita said. "It is… Grim, unfortunately."

"To put it mildly," Marcel agreed in his mostly Polish accent. "We do accept your hospitality, Captain. Please lead on."

A brief flash of communication connected the group with Va'tor. She was an alien mind to them, and they to her, but she had been learning from Elia and both sides wanted to be polite, but in this case the fulcrum of their talks was necessarily Zhen'var. Still, the exchange provided useful information which gave Nishita a small smile, at least.

"You believe you have all the children onboard, Captain?"

"My landing teams believe so, yes. After the experience in the tunnels, I would not have withdrawn my people without being reasonably sure that was the case. Children should be protected from such experiences."

"Thank you, Captain."

"You are welcome." Leading through the ship, the Dilgar woman led them to one of the conference rooms, directing them to sit. "Please. You have free use of the replicator while you are here. What do you seek of me?"

"We want to get our children and bring them back to safe facilities, Captain," Nishita took the lead, lest it seem like too much of a Metapol operation. "The political ramifications of the attack on Mars make this more pressing, more urgent. And we do have a list of children present at the facility to compare against those aboard, to make sure there are no stragglers."

"The list I can and will take, Doctor, but I am bound by oath to enforce Alliance law." Zhen'var's face had formed a grimace she couldn't hide, and she went on, bleeding reluctance through her mental shields. "I will need to demonstrate family reunions to my superiors in the aftermath of an incident such as this, or our family courts will claim jurisdiction and attempt to place them with blood relatives. I _know_ that is not how the Corps works, before you protest, but my latitude is quite limited. I am under explicit orders. Can… you help me?"

The frustration from Marcel hit Va'tor like a wave, but he wasn't leaving it at that as he faced Zhen'var. "Captain, that is very much not how the Corps works," Marcel began. "Personally, your family had an _excellent_ reputation in the Grapevine, I mean, your mother was the only Captain whose ship Military Telepaths actively sought out assignment to. I know you're not trying to hurt us. But this is a _serious_ matter. You've already let terrorists settle in your territory, are you going give them our children, too? They intentionally abandoned them in the tunnels after terrifying them!"

Nishita turned to Marcel and for a moment there was a silent conversation before she looked to Zhen'var. "Forgive us. You asked for our help, we can at least try. Erika…"

"Alliance law lets me file for an emergency injunction from an Alliance jurisdiction, which the ship is," she offered, a more hopeful smile touching her face. "So I can at least let the litigation begin immediately."

"That is good. Please, anything you can do to buy _time_ will help. I need a _family_ reunion, it does not have to be a _conventional_ family. Can you help me with _that_?" Zhen'var's voice was hopeful, though hurt had flashed through her gaze when the Bloodhound had snapped at her.

Nishita opened her mouth to reply, but the words never got out of her lips when a trilling buzzer warned Zhen'var of an urgent communication.

"Captain, this is Commander Atreiad, I need to speak to you urgently."

"Excuse me, please." Standing, the captain moved to step into the hall before activating the sound-suppressing field on her omnitool. "Go ahead, Commander, privacy bubble engaged."

"Mars Gov just ordered us to vacate Mars Sphere in the next five minutes or they will request Earthforce to intervene. It's so abrupt that I don't know what's going on, and I half think they're bluffing about the second part."

"Something very ill-omened indeed. Send an emergency report to Portland, and prepare to break orbit. We cannot assume it is a bluff. Thank you, Commander." She took a breath, and took advantage of the privacy bubble to whisper a soft prayer. "Captain Zhen'var to Commander Imra, emergency priority."

"Captain, we are still holding at Ready Five. What do you need?" She didn't even miss a beat.

"We are being expelled by Mars in five minutes. I want a stealth launch before then, you are about to be the officer on scene, Commander Imra, I am delegating local command to you. Load what-ever you need for possible long-duration independent operation in the next five minutes." Zhen'var's voice was clipped, clear, and tense. "The Martians are threatening to cooperate with Earthforce, the situation has degenerated beyond _Huáscar_ 's ability to overtly influence."

"Permission to depart in tandem and return to the system under stealth? I believe, Captain, my mission should be to resume contact with Psi Corps. At this juncture, we risk a breach otherwise."

"I agree, and permission is granted. I wish I could remain to provide assistance, but irrationality appears to rule the response to our presence now."

"Don't worry Captain. I'm not the one who has to tell MetaPol they're getting a free ride to somewhere they don't want to go."

"Which I will now be doing to avoid awkwardness. Coordinate with Commander Atreiad for your needs. Divine go with you, Commander Imra." After the telltale blinked off on the interface, she turned back for the conference room. _Somehow, I do not think **this**_ _is going to go well._


	6. Act 5

**Act 5**

Abebech Imra watched the _Huáscar_ disappear at warp, and began to give her own orders. "Set our course for the outer system, Warp Factor 8."

Ca'elia confirmed the order, and soon the _Heermann_ was warping out of the system as well. At that high velocity it took only minutes, and then Imra gave her next order. "Cloak the ship."

"Cloak the ship, aye," Goodenough confirmed, and a minute later they were invisible. They were comfortably cloaked and certainly in no functional danger on the _Heermann,_ but that meant little. At some level, the abrupt Martian willingness to cooperate with Earth was a total catastrophe. That clearly required a solution, and Captain Zhen'var had authorised her to find one.

"Stop all engines," Imra ordered. A moment later, they were out of warp, drifting at the outer edge of the Solar System.

"That Psi-Corps delegation didn't arrive from Earth, did it, Goodenough?"

"No, Captain, it came from direction Io," he answered after a minute of reviewing the records.

"Io. They arrived from the Gate, didn't they?"

"Possibly, Captain, our sensor data doesn't range that far, but that was certainly their heading."

"We need to make contact with them separate from EarthGov or else something is going to go down here, and I'm not sure if it's EarthGov or the Corps that will be starting it," she said after a moment.

"L'tenant Ca'elia, set course for the Io gate at Warp Factor Six. Maintain cloak."

Without further ado, they headed back into Earth space, except this time, invisible to Earth Alliance sensors. Abebech expected by long experience that once she could get into hyperspace with the _Heermann,_ she would be able to execute the next phase of her operation.

After the exchange with Captain Zhen'var, Dr. Cavanaugh had made her way to sickbay to see the children and the woman who had been taking care of them for the past few days. _Greetings, Commander,_ she glyphed, as the images of the children flooded in. Some were excellent young Psi-Corps kids who were as controlled as adults, some blooped like crazy. Such was a Sigma cadre.

 _Doctor Cavanaugh… I'm very sorry about this situation._ Elia straightened.

 _It's all right. I've been told about how you've helped us. I know by law there are things you cannot do in your current position, and good press is more important than anything else right now. Can Marcel and Erika come? I know they're not trained to handle the children, but you weren't, either._

 _Of course they can,_ Elia glyphed back. _Among other things, I could use some sleep. Though first we've got some pretty serious things to discuss._

 _That's … yes, but I'm not sure which one is the most important._

 _Children first. Do we have lists of definitive creche-parent relationships for them including second-in-line as a godparent equivalent?_

 _Yes, I can provide that documentation right now,_ Nitisha agreed.

Marcel and Erika entered at that point, everyone's conversations briefly distracted by the excitement of the children.

After a few minutes, Marcel turned his attention to Elia as well. _Commander. Thank you for working to get the children to a place of safety, even if it was temporary._

 _It's my duty to Mother and Father, Officer Szewczyk_. _No thanks needed._

 _No, I really think they are,_ Marcel answered. _I've seen too many even with good intentions turn cruel and heartless toward their kin. That's why even good intentions in blips I no longer care about. They don't last._

 _I understand. There were traffickers already operating on the surface of Mars. We have a dozen of them in the brig. Our security chief and a couple of Mha'dorn have been working on wearing them down._

 _What they deserve, Elia, is…_

 _Marcel,_ her glyph conveyed a bright cheery sentiment that rarely connected with what came next, _our security chief was a personal agent of Warmaster Jha'dur._

 _Oh! Everything is in the most appropriate hands already. Maybe I can just sit back and sample mixed drinks from the replicator._

Elia giggled. _I will leave it at my absolute trust for Battlemaster Fei'nur._

 _Good. I see Nishita has already taken care of the children… Elia, do you have any useful information on the attack?_

 _Not yet, but the Captain knows something. Anna's team found something out on Mars and she's held it close to her chest since. Do you want me to try and ask? If it's already been restricted, I won't be able to tell you, but if it isn't, I can fudge._

 _...I'll take what I can get. Please._ Marcel felt a little bit like a caged tiger at the moment, though the thought of one of Deathwalker's agents working the traffickers made him want to giggle.

 _I think trafficking has increased lately,_ Erika observed, interjecting. _Legal has gotten a considerable uptick in related cases and frankly the centres aren't at all obvious._

 _That is correct,_ Marcel agreed _The terrorists had to go and distract us at a critical time._

 _I should raise the possibility of an extrauniversal source,_ Elia glyphed.

 _If you can get any evidence on that, either from this interrogation or another, that would be critical. Surely you can share that without restrictions?_

 _Stopping the slave trade? The Alliance wouldn't exist if it was throwing up roadblocks between me and that, its creators would help me tear it down. Yeah, if there is a link, you'll hear about it,_ Elia promised.

 _Well, I think we're all on our way to making lemonade, then._ Marcel thought for a moment about what else to talk to. _Any other human telepaths on the ship, or is it just you and all of your Dilgar friends, Elia?_

Elia got a taut smile on her face. _Let's put it this way: Oh boy is there ever._

Abebech had relied on Ca'elia's brilliant piloting, the Dilgar woman with ice water in her veins, bringing them straight behind a liner through the Io gate with only a few hundred meters of clearance. Goodenough had seen the small, slightly satisfied look on his Commander's face and knew that she'd found a keeper when it came to the new helmswoman.

Since then, they'd started a series of sweeps, drifting in hyperspace near the gate, but going steadily out from the beacon.. And not toward the beacon network. This was making Jonathan a little nervous, but Abebech was doing the calculations herself.

After somewhere around six hours, they had left the network completely, Abebech sitting with a mug of coffee in her hands, watching the screen intently through her sunglasses.

Every so often, Jonathan stole a look at the complicated inertial navigation program running on the _Heermann_ 's mainframes to try and keep track of where they were.

Then Abebech raised her gloved left hand and pointed a finger at the screen, showing only the crazed, mottled reality of hyperspace. "There. Come about oh-four-nine mark one. Ahead one half impulse power."

" _Oh-four-niner mark one, one half impulse power,_ " Ca'elia sang out. The ship surged ahead and raced down the tiny blip Abebech had so casually pointed to.

It rapidly resolved into a modified _Hyperion_ class cruiser. And they knew they were coming, Jonathan could see it from the way power spiked. "Captain, they're charging weapons!"

"Lieutenant Mehmet, hail them and inform them we have come to discuss the repatriation of the children from Mars. One will beam aboard, unarmed."

" _Aye-Aye, Captain.._ " He shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

"Helm all stop," she directed next.

"All stop Aye," Ca'elia confirmed again, glancing to Jonathan, who just shrugged. _One, unarmed, of course it will be Abebech, of course she'll be fine._

"...We accept your parley, they signal, Sir. Captain Rhee, Commanding."

"Captain Rhee." She rolled the name on her tongue. "Very good then, inform the Transporter Chief to be prepared for one beam-out. One only."

When the flash of the transporter effect faded from the bridge, what remained was a gaunt, female individual of greatly above average height, skin an odd, unhealthy tone of bleached black that didn't quite qualify as mocha. She was in the full dress whites of a Stellar Navy Commander, unarmed, her hair sharply yanked back with a rigid level of control that, considering the kinky mass, must have been downright painful. Her eyes were concealed under an immense pair of ray-bans and when she turned to the side, it revealed her black-gloved hands in silhouette. Her mind was the most uncomfortable sense of them all, well-contained, highly disciplined, able to brush aside anyone on the bridge, it nonetheless slipped along like it was vaguely wrong, like the difference between skin and old leather.

Her lips pursed into a faint smile. She spoke, aloud, though everyone on the bridge knew she didn't have to, but clearly rigidly controlled herself to the point she would not admit even the slightest contact. "Apologies for the dramatic entrance," the voice offered with an faint tinge of old Afrika and plenty of aristocrat. "but I felt it necessary to come personally to make sure this doesn't turn into a disaster for the both of us."

Captain Rhee wasn't in her chair, instead she stood with her knees bent in a fighting crouch in response to the unfamiliar sight but known danger of a matter transport. Her bridge crew and marines had taken cover positions and had hands on weapons, but upon seeing Abebech, she stood up straight and ordered her crew to stand down.

"No apologies necessary, though I would caution against such sudden entrances in the future. I'm curious, if you'll indulge me; what are you doing working for them? Commander Saumarez I understand, but you... " Captain Rhee was a tall woman for her Korean ancestry, fit and athletic, at a glance worthy of her post.

"A favour to an old friend. Our mental lineages intertwine, but only distantly, Captain." Abebech inclined her head. "My universe has known not centuries but millennia of violence between espers and normals."

"I see. You're not here on behalf of the Alliance then, or they would have more of an institutional clue. Whose diplomatic credentials am I currently accepting?"

"Captain Zhen'var's. I know her character, Captain. I managed to speak with Commander Saumarez before the _demarche_ from the Mars Government forced the withdrawal of the _Huáscar_ , and I understand that the children had formal caretakers, foster parents essentially, is this not correct?"

Captain Rhee Sueng breathed a sigh of relief. "Ah. I was concerned about a distinct... Nth party. Having multiple universes with a truly staggering number of intelligence services and unknown entities is sending our intelligence branch crawling up walls. You are correct, our children had house-parents before the attack."

"Can the parents be brought to a rendezvous with the _Huáscar_? I know you were preparing a pursuit to recover the negotiation team that's trapped aboard. You will give Captain Zhen'var legal cover and moral certainty if she can see family reunifications, her own rigid sense of honour will handle the rest even if it's just a single pair of those who survived so we are not talking about the reunification of all-it will still be all the children getting handed over. I know this entails risk, Captain. It entails your trusting the Captain and myself with the lives of telepaths who are not in the business of war. However, I will remain aboard your cruiser until it is finished."  
Trust was hard. This woman had locked herself down harder than was normally possible. She was clearly methodical. She was also offering herself as a hostage.

Sueng tried to probe this disturbing women's defenses, but she was strong and frankly locked down tighter than any Psi Cop she'd ever seen. Not even the shape of her mind-other than the sense of Otherness-was detectable through her defenses. Her first instinct was to say no. She didn't trust the Dilgar, and she didn't trust this person. But Elia Saumarez was still in the Corps, and she could be trusted even if she was in involuntary exile.

"We do have several of their house parents," Sueng elaborated. "We managed to recover them successfully when the Bloodhounds arrived. We cannot confirm the existence of this ship but we can send a shuttle. However, would it be acceptable if I provided an armed escort? They've been through... a nightmare, and would feel better being protected by our own people."

"Yes." Abebech straightened her head back. "Yes, they may arrive armed."

One could tell she was meeting Sueng's gaze through her glasses. One didn't need to see her eyes to feel it. Her breathing was barely visible, the only skin she showed was above her tightly starched collar. "You have the word of Abebech Imra, Captain. I know my commander."

"Excellent. If you're willing to accept our hospitality, it is extended. We have guest quarters for visiting dignitaries that I'll make available for you, and if you wish, you can join us for dinner in the officer's mess." Sueng had to consider for a moment how many to send. She wanted enough men to secure the safety of the Education telepaths she was sending, and possibly to hot extract all others, but not enough to be considered a threat. After a moment, she decided. Captain Rhee activated her comm unit and spoke into it.

"Lieutenant Gonzales, I need four of your best marines, preferably above P9 to escort some VIPs. I'll brief them in thirty minutes."

"I will accept your offer, Captain." A thin smile crossed her lips. "I could stand the entire time I am here, but it would be a trifle pathetic." She raised her own communicator. "Commander Goodman, you will be escorting a shuttle to the _Huáscar_ 's position while I remain aboard the cruiser. Expect the shuttle to depart the cruiser in about forty-five minutes. When it does, proceed with the rendezvous immediately and then make haste to the Huáscar. Understand that I will not further be in communication, until you return at the completion of the shuttle's mission."

"Confirmed, Commander. Heerman Actual, standing by."

Her subordinate's voice didn't sound in the slightest bit concerned, and with no further ado, Abebech pulled off her emergency comm-badge and presented it to Rhee.

"Oh I wouldn't call it pathetic Commander just... well, it would be rude of us." She gave Imra a wry grin and took the badge "If an emergency arises due to outside intervention, I will of course hand this back to you."

"I have no doubt," Imra murmured. "I shall appreciate being the guest of your wardroom. I can tell at least a few stories, and I don't eat that much. Can someone show me to the quarters? I don't want to waste more of your time when you're preparing for the shuttle launch."

"Lieutenant Popov, would you be so kind as to show Commander Imra to the guest quarters? I think Navigator Etsiddy can keep an eye on the local void in your absence."

"Aye Captain! Commander, if you would follow?" the electronic warfare officer said in a Russian accent, stepping out from behind his seat.

"Lead on, L'tenant." She gestured with one hand. "Thank you for your courtesy, Captain. We will find a way together." As she was stepping out toward the exit from the bridge, she paused for a moment. "Just to make absolutely clear, you'd never use sleepers on another telepath in any circumstance whatsoever? Even for me there are many lies and much disinformation attending to your situation."

"No. Never. Those drugs are a cruel abomination. If we had to drug a telepath-or more likely a telekinetic- to ensure the safety of others, we would use sedatives instead."

Rhee could feel Imra probing the answer, and in that brief moment of connection, the confirmation of the obvious, was left behind the faint, unnerving whisper that Imra was more concerned about the consequences for Rhee and her ship than she was for herself. "Everything will be fine then." With a mild expression, she turned back to follow the Lieutenant.

The next night, they were still ten hours out from the Earth Alliance frontier. Zhen'var was sipping at a mug of decaffinated chai, leaned back against the bulkhead in her bunk - watching the stars slowly drift by through the viewport which replaced an actual transparency in-between working on a redshifted datapad. Everything seemed to have gone utterly _wrong_ so quickly, and her Alliance still seemed to be drifting to the wrong side in the war she feared was already beginning.

The alarm softly trilled. " _Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez_ ," The computer announced, though the voice was damped for the evening.

"Lights to one-quarter. Unlock." She set the tea down and reached to pull on a robe. "Come in, Commander!"

Elia stepped in, off duty. She didn't have her uniform jacket on, just a robe she'd pulled over, but her gloves were there as always. Her hair was let down, and she looked tired. "I hope you don't mind, but since they're here, I at least let Doctor Cavanaugh take over watching the kids. She was quite touched by the Dilgar having given them all Mha'dorn badges."

"You know very well anyone who emigrated would be given the same badge you wear… though our public relations remain almost hilariously poor." Zhen'var smiled fractionally, and gestured to a chair. "Sit, anything from the replicator you would like, Elia. I do not mind, either. I think that is the best place for them, at least until the war begins in earnest. That… makes me fear I will have to make another hard choice, with even fewer standing with me this time.."

"I don't think it's that bad. I think we've found people who know right from wrong," Elia answered. "And if not, eh, _Viva Huáscar,_ right?" A wry, if mirthless, grin.

"If I die half as well as so many Dilgar have these last decades…" Zhen'var sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Why does no-one else _see_ what we do?"

"It's pretty obvious. They're not as awesome as you and your mom, Zhen'var," Elia said, flopping down onto the bunk next to her. "I don't think you need to think about the worst, Captain. I've got evidence from the Psi Corps delegation covering creche parent relationships to every single child on the ship."

"Really? I can _use_ that to demonstrate family reunions if we can re-unite them...it is _admissible_ evidence, Elia?" The woman's short depressive fit cleared, and her eyes lit once again.

"Thaat… Might be harder. I'm not sure how it will work. But I left a summary with Erika and she's the one who will be speaking to a judge. I'm not quite sure what went down, but she got herself admitted to the bar in the Alliance."

"Corps people are clever. Present company assuredly included, El'sau." Zhen'var grinned, flashing teeth in honest amusement. "It is an opening, we will take it."

"I'm glad." She lapsed into silence for a moment, and shifted a bit. "Captain, what did we find during the search of the planet? For evidence of the terrorists, I mean."

"Something I will push all effort in pursuing, Elia." _But I cannot say more than that with how explosive it may be._ She tried to project the thought with all the effort she could muster.

Elia nervously ducked a look around even Zhen'var's quarters. And then, very quickly, leaning in on herself, she pulled her right glove off, holding it almost nervously in her left hand. The skin of her hand was utterly pale, unexposed to normal sunlight over the whole course of her life. It was delicate, because of it, her plain nails short-cut.

"You're the closest friend I've ever had outside of the Corps, Zhen'var," she whispered, and that was sincere, as much as there was a second layer of intent in the action.

"Thank you, Elia." She'd averted her eyes when she saw the other woman pulling her glove off, an audibly sharp intake of breath echoing through the room. Zhen'var was _nervous_ , though not afraid.

Elia let her hand hang, an invitation even as her face delicately pinked. There were plenty of ways to misinterpret this considering they were both sitting on Zhen'var's bed. But that was of course not the point.

The captain reached out with her own hand, turning her gaze to Elia's, not looking _down_ at her friend's hand out of a polite sense of modesty.

Elia smiled as their skin touched, and didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her expression turned, but she kept a brave look on her lips. _Thank you. I understand._ And that was it. She didn't let the gesture linger, gently pulling her hand away after that and quickly covering it. But it was enough.

"I am sorry, El'sau. I have already said too much, but you know my fears now."

Elia raised a gloved finger, and smiled gently, though sadly. "We'll manage."

" _We_ will, yes. Thank you, my friend."

Zhen'var had barely gone to sleep after the quiet, dark encounter with Elia, when the alarm on her computer trilled with the warning of an incoming communication of high urgency.

"A Captain's work is never done…" Checking the header codes would inform whether the robe or uniform jacket would be needed, as she rolled out of bed and waved the lights brighter.

The code signalled that it was _Heermann_ Actual seeking to reach them, bounced through a League hyperspace tachyon relay, no less.

That decided it, uniform jacket it was. Abech Imra's poise was something that her commanding officer _tried_ to emulate at the best of times, as Zhen'var put herself together and activated the comm terminal. " _Huascar_ Actual, go ahead _Heermann_ Actual."

"Captain, this is Lieutenant Commander Goodenough," the image resolved into the crisp professionalism, seaman's face and pony-tail of Commander Imra's executive officer. "Commander Imra beamed herself aboard a Psi-Corps vessel laying off the network in hyperspace near Earth. She told me to convey to you that she was offering herself as a hostage for the safety of a group of creche-parents, and a Psi Corps vessel would make a rendezvous with you carrying them aboard, so you have legal cover for the return of the children."

"I left her as senior officer on scene, very well, Commander Goodenough. The creche-parents of the cadre children… yes, I can use that to satisfy a review of my actions. I would have _hoped_ that it would not be necessary for Commander Imra to put herself in such a situation, but I understand why. You have my agreement to her plan, Commander."

"I'm sending a coded transmission of the rendezvous coordinates. Captain, Commander Imra was pretty confident Psi Corps would have attacked the _Huáscar_ otherwise to retrieve the children and the negotiating team. They're taking this very seriously. She wanted to get everything on the right foot. And of course, as usual, she doesn't have a lick of fear."

"I do not believe the Corps quite knows my mettle nor my attitude." His superior officer had a note of annoyance in her accented voice, her eyes narrowing. "Once I can prove a family bond, I can return the children. That has _always_ been the objective."

"Understood, Captain. The burst should be coming through now. We'll hold position and keep tracking the Psi Corps ship, but I just do not feel the Commander is in any great danger," Jonathan replied after a moment.

"I trust your judgement, Commander. We will get underway for the rendezvous at once. The sooner this diplomatic nightmare ends, the better. Keep up the good work."

The next day, about fourteen hours in, they arrived at the coordinates bordering the tripoint between old Darglan space, the Earth Alliance and the Koulani regime.

Sitting in her position on the bridge, Captain Zhen'var spoke softly; "Helm, all stop. Any local contacts on sensors?"

"Nothing in realspace, Captain," Fera'xero reported. "I can try deep tachyon scans to attempt hyperspace detections, but the false positive rate is very high."

"Rig for silent running. The ship we are to meet knows we should be here _about_ this time, and we want to attract no other attention. Keep up your passive scanning, just in case."

"Understood Sir, rigged for silent running," Lieutenant Orsallian confirmed at Ops.

The minutes ticked by, and Zhen'var frowned slightly after most of an hour had gone by. "Stand down the crew by rotation to take a quick meal. We may well be here a while."

It was about twenty minutes later that Fera'xero looked up from his console, vocoder flashing. "Captain, hyperspace jump-point forming twelve kiloklicks off the port bow, one one five mark two."

"Call the crew back to stations. Are they are our intended rendezvous partners, Commander?" Zhen'var wasn't rattled, calm as she took the news calmly, setting her mug of tea into the shockproof holder beside her command chair.

Sixth time at stations in five days. Will had some stubble on his face at this point as he cast off for the secondary bridge. Violeta returned to the bridge, lunch abandoned half-eaten. The usual vagarities of their Captain's willingness to sound stations at the slightest risk.

"Yes, Captain. The ship is a standard _Asimov_ class liner in hull configuration, but she has power bands suggesting she has been modified into a warship," Fera'xero brought the detail display readout up on tactical.

"Hmm. She has many more sensor and observation masts than usual as well. Interesting _and_ clever of the Corps. Hail them."

"Receiving signal back, Captain," L'tenant Tor'jar reported. "They are identifying themselves as the Transport Department Ship _Nephthys._ They have come to arrange familial unifications per negotiated agreement."

"Understood. Inform them we stand ready to receive shuttles." _Divine, but let this soon be over._

The reunifications were almost stupidly happy. _Most_ of the creche-parents had survived, and there was someone familiar with all of the kids present at some point in their upbringings. Elia was socialising with more human telepaths than she had frankly ever _thought_ would happen again in her life.

Zhen'var made herself present for the initial pleasantries. They were not a definitive outcome, however. The parents might be aboard, but the question was how to satisfy the legal necessities.

For that, Erika had followed her injunction up with a request for a preliminary hearing with a judge of the Alliance Admiralty Court, 2nd Circuit, to try out the legal argument she expected to end the situation as rapidly as possible.

In the meanwhile, Fei'nur had asked for a meeting.

Interest piqued, Captain Zhen'var invited her to her ready room within the hour. The old marine _rarely_ formally asked to speak with her, and it implied she'd been successful, as the ship's captain smiled. "Battlemaster Fei'nur, come and be at ease. You requested to speak with me."

"Captain." She offered a salute. "The interrogation has been completed. Reputation alone sufficed to break the weaker ones, and we leaned on the rest from that. It should not result in any of the human law-suits." _There are no bruises!_

 _Oh thank goodness. I was not ready for an Inspector General Audit…_ "Give your report, Battlemaster. This information will no doubt be useful. I do not care if it is problematic."

"The slavers worked for an organisation called the Trading Concordate. It is extrauniversal and very interested in trafficking telepaths. The prices are so high as to disrupt the trafficking market which already exists in the Earth Alliance, Captain." Fei'nur managed to nicely combine stiffness and a hint in her voice of what she wanted to do to these people, probably simply on general principle. Warmaster Jha'dur had hated pirates and slavers, too.

"Do you have a written report, Battlemaster? If so, I wish you to give a copy to the MetaPol agent aboard. They will have an extreme interest in such a thing. The original shall go to headquarters with my report under a separate cover. _Excellent_ work, Battlemaster."

"Certainly, Captain. I recall they moved to the conference suites?"

"Correct, Battlemaster. I will be along to speak with them later today in the event they need any clarification. This is _your_ intelligence triumph, Fei'nur. I will not seek to share it."

Stiffening to attention, the older woman sharply saluted. "I shall obey, Captain."

Zhen'var smiled, and gently shook her head. "Dismissed, Battlemaster Fei'nur. Again, thank you, and well done."

Spinning on her heel, the marine commander crisply departed, only pausing for a moment after the hatch had closed. _The Captain is a very strange woman sometimes, though it is not often unwelcome._ Tucking her report under an arm, Fei'nur moved off through the corridors of the _Huáscar_.

When she arrived, the children and creche parents were gathered in the main auditorium, and Fei'nur paused by the back, where Marcel was standing, mostly out of sight. "Officer…"

"A moment please," he whispered softly. "I'm watching something I've never seen before."

"Ah, of course." She glanced at front of the auditorium. Erika Flores was there, speaking to a human in the clothes of a Judge through the telelink feed. Fei'nur's brow furrowed in confusion. _Something he's never seen before…? She's just talking to a Justice, isn't she…? Oh. **Right.** Human Mha'dorn aren't allowed to do… well, anything!_

"Under the law of the sea, emergency rescues should not prejudice national jurisdiction, Your Honour. The precedent is established in Alliance Admiralty Law under AUCA-15-10. The children were rescued from domes; it cannot be considered a case outside of the scope of Admiralty law because the law in _Stansted v. Levin_ clearly establishes that under the Alliance courts, the jurisdiction includes any artificial structure which, by damage, may admit a vacuum no different than a grounded barge is still under Admiralty law when fixed on a sandbank on the surface of a planet. Your Honour, the children were rescued from domes on a planet that requires regular shipments of oxygen-the domes are structures dependent on artificial intervention to sustain life. The _Huáscar_ brought the children aboard in the context of that emergency situation, and they should be released to go with their families now that practical and safe conveyance is available. Family reunification in the case of shipwreck and rescue in the void is a summary matter, and accordingly I am requesting a summary ruling that the children may depart with their parents aboard the conveyance we have so provided."

 _I actually mostly understood that! At least the last part…_ Fei'nur respected the request that she remain there silent, but she'd never seen a court proceeding _herself_ before, if one did not count summary drumhead trial in the Imperium's army.

"Well, young lady," the Judge looked over the filing she had made, and back at the assembled. "The reasoning is sound enough, if a unique interpretation of the legal status of non-self-sustaining habitats. A summary motion prejudices the outcome of any appeal by removing the children from the jurisdiction of the state, you know." He chuckled softly. "But it was an Act of War, or rather terrorism, and I'm prepared to enter the summary judgement accordingly. Get the kids back to somewhere pleasant, Ms. Flores. They've been guests of the Navy for long enough. It should log in the court system in about thirty minutes, and I'll file the _Huáscar_ 's JAG officer as a recipient."

"Thank you, Your Honour!" Despite how simple and straightforward it had been, she looked almost unimaginably pleased.

The old judge grinned and winked. "With that, that I make the summary finding that the children were rescued under the character of shipwrecks and should be rendered to their families, citizens of the Earth Alliance, without delay. With that finding, this proceeding is hereby closed." the gavel smacked down, the screen went blank, and Erika jumped up in the air in triumph.

"I _think_ that was brilliant…?" Fei'nur murmured, blinking at all the legal manouvering required to produce such a simple and, to her, obvious result. "Officer, before you depart to escort the kits back…"

"I almost wonder if she was showing off a little," Marcel shook his head. "Yes, Colonel Fei'nur?" His look left no real doubt that he knew something was up… But nor did a telepath go around finishing sentences for people, if they were wise.

She held out a locked folio. "My report on the interrogation of the attempted kidnappers. It is _alarming_. I believe the Mha'dorn will be enacting several planned additional safeguards on the basis of it alone. Multiversal backing _with_ enough support to completely up-end the prices of the native… market." She said the last word with clearly revolted distaste, for the fact that they went after alien and thus potentially Dilgar telepaths had been enough to seal the deal in her mind.

Marcel took the folio, his expression turning bleak for a moment. Then he forced a smile. "After all of this time, leaving myself convinced absolutely no-one would help us, I find assistance from the Dilgar. Thank you, Colonel. I suspect you may grasp how important this is to us."

"Even the Supreme Warmaster would have helped you for her own reasons, if we had successfully kidnapped and interrogated your Assistant Director in New York as planned." Fei'nur didn't even _flinch_. "We didn't know your situation. We didn't know _anything_ about Earth, but that is the past. Is there anything else, Officer?"

"Oh, so you got the information personally, too. No, no," he had a big grin now. "That will be all. Give Captain Zhen'var my regards as well. The hospitality has been truly wonderful. I'm not about to get upset over a Deputy Director from thirty years ago having nothing actually happen to her."

"I shall. If your people have learned the military arts, it would not be unwelcome to someday fight with you." Fei'nur nodded her head, sweeping the room with a wary gaze reflexively, before turning to leave.

Nah'dur was helping with the final handover as the last of the creche parents were departing with the remainder of the children. They were bringing them over to the Psi-Corps ship in a return trip from one shuttle, the first two having sufficed for everyone else. A small waiting room was present next to the main hangar bay, and Nah'dur had retreated to it when she saw Dr. Cavanaugh there, packing up a final duffle.

"Doctor," Nah'dur greeted her nonchalantly, stuffing her hands into her lab coat.

"Surgeon-Commander." Nishita greeted her in return, then tilted her head "Is something bothering you?"

"Not in the conventional sense of making me upset, but I did have an observation." She glanced around and pulled the door shut. "You _did_ experiment on the children. I'm not going to raise a fuss over it, of course. They are also very well cared for, so I don't see an ethical issue."

"But others might, if I understand your Alliance, and indeed most of our own galaxy correctly." Dr. Cavanaugh took in a deep breath and sighed "Our own world has a rather _unfortunate_ history with things like human experimentation and informed consent. Typically, the subjects are thoroughly otherized and dehumanized. It is markedly different in this case."

"I noticed. It is surprising, actually. During the war, we called aliens animals and invented propaganda around this precisely to overcome the mammalian biological programming. To your own kits? It is remarkable - hard to understand compassion and humanity existing hand in hand with experimentation, Doctor."

"The reality is, children are going to keep being born who are telekinetic, or who can phase into hyperspace, or who can see the future. The human mind isn't equipped to handle telepathy very well, let alone that; and no animal model exists to understand the phenomena, or treat the resulting psychological instability. We develop treatments as safely as we can using animals and adult volunteers as a safety check, but ultimately we have to do efficacy testing. There simply isn't a choice. It's because we love them and want them to have lives worth living that we run those experiments. We're just trying to clean up the Vorlons' _fucking mess_."

"Nobody asks what's left when the war is over. I remain very unimpressed by the Vorlons." Nah'dur smiled, her lips curling to show her teeth for a moment. "Thank you for the precis. I am … Understanding of the position."

"You're welcome." Nishita smiled back, not showing her teeth, uncertain how a show of teeth would translate with a carnivore and not wanting to tempt fate "I too am not impressed with them. They created us as tools; weapons to be used, but _we are not tools_." she chuckled "Not being impressed might be something of an understatement."

"I wish fortune for your people, Doctor, especially because you are brave enough to hold no truck with your creators. I'm collaborating with El'sau on a few projects you may or may not be aware of - but I hope you will see the fruits soon enough."

"And I yours. You're people have done well by ours, you in particular. You may not fully realize it, but you are excellent with children and helped them considerably. They'll keep those pins you gave them forever, I think. We won't forget that. And I look forward to seeing what you and Elia come up with. If we survive the next few…" Nishita hand-waved away the timescale, not wanting to think about it "maybe we can form a lasting partnership."

"Perhaps we can. May your den be secure, Doctor. I do believe it is time for your shuttle to depart, so I'll be glad to show you myself. Your presence, to me, has been welcome."

"Yes thank you. If I'm not on that shuttle there's no telling what havoc Marcel will unleash." Nishita grinned, mostly joking about the havoc, "It's been a pleasure working with you, and I certainly wouldn't mind the company."

Two days later, the Psi Corps children and families safely away, the _Heermann_ met up with the _Huáscar_ in orbit of the Darglan homeworld and returned to her dock. Commander Imra was aboard, apparently no worse for wear. She returned to her quarters without seeking Zhen'var out, however.

Her Captain respected her apparent desire for privacy, at least at first. They would need to speak before she finalized her report on the entire operation, but offering oneself up as a hostage was, to Zhen'var, both stressful and worthy of appreciation. She sent a request to Imra's and Goodenough's electronic schedulers, requesting their reports on the events during the detached operation.

The next day, when Zhen'var was off-duty, the door buzzer trilled to her cabin.

Working at her small writing desk, the Dilgar woman looked up with a small frown ghosting across her face. _The faults of an open door policy, I suppose._ "Come ahead!" She'd managed to find a way to make the computer stop introducing everyone by name and title, at least.

"Captain," Imra said as she walked in, dressed starkly in black from toe to neck, off-duty herself, and looking impressive for it. "You wanted my report, and I wrote it, but I felt you wanted more as well."

"I did wish to speak with you, but I did not wish to push the point. Sit, please. Any refreshments? Thank you for coming to talk with me, anyhow."

"You're quite welcome. No refreshments are needed, Captain." She moved to sit in the offered chair, crossing her legs lightly.

"I regret that it was necessary for you to take the actions you did, though understandable. What are your impressions of the Psi Corps, Commander?"

"They are armed to a far greater extent than anyone realises, and maintain the will and resilience and planning to prosecute a war. Morale is high, despite poor odds if the government were to turn against them. The ship I encountered and the ship you encountered are surely but a fraction of their strength," Abebech answered, so much of her facial expressions lost behind the glasses.

"They have had much incentive to protect themselves. Unfortunately, I think their efforts will soon be _needed_. I fear more that we may be on the wrong side if open conflict breaks out." She didn't specify _which_ side that was, sighing as she reached for her mug of chai. "It was good to see the children so happy to see their parents again, at least."

"I hope they will grow to be adults," Abebech said on a long exhale. "We will know the answer sooner than I should wish. I was fine, of course."

"I trust your judgement, Commander. I merely regret the necessity. At least the crew has some time to recover from being run ragged these last few days. Being able to trust _utterly_ your judgement when _Heermann_ is detached… it is invaluable, Commander. I shall be mentioning your superlative initiative in dispatches."

"I have some experience, Captain," she said at a murmur. "I am honoured, as ever, to bring the _Huáscar_ to a more perfect form for our trials together."

"I shall not ask, Commander. If you wish to volunteer information, so be it, but I respect the privacy of your past."

"If I need to volunteer it, I will. Until then… I serve of my volition and that is what matters. Still, you know, in my universe, something similar happened very long ago to the telepaths of my universe. They fought back and won. The ramifications of that story… Have hardly finished unfolding."

"Given how they are treated… I hope they find a victory here, though the ramifications will be equally enormous."

"Speaking as a telepath, Captain, I think I would rather die than live like one here. Of course, in reality, death is rather terrible, so I suppose I would adapt."

"They have. I fear in so doing, the Psi Corps became warped, twisted, and riven into factionalism, as Earthgov kept trying to _use_ it… but by Mother Durga, it is better than the alternative telepaths face here. "

"I don't disagree. Ah, well. The war has begun, we both know it. ISN won't stop showing new footage of the latest terrorist attack. It is a rolling drumbeat. Makes you almost long for one of those old multinational Empires to keep the peace, doesn't it?" Abebech seemed distant for a moment. "One can hardly imagine Austro-Hungary or the Ottoman Empire passing the metasensory registration act."

"If not for the contact with the Centauri, Earth would have overturned itself in war. If not for the Dilgar, the Earth Alliance never would have gained the confidence that led to war with the Minbari…" She sighed tiredly, dullness settling into her eyes as she glanced over to the case of medals hung on the side of her desk. "Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of their leaders. I suspect am a background story in all this as well. There is enough sensationalism involved, after all."

"And when it is all over, they want to tear each other's throats out…" She rose, slowly. "Well, such is the way of humans, and most other species, your's included. But you are a different mettle, Captain, and that is why I follow you personally." She turned to go.

"Thank you, Commander Imra. _Thank you_. And if I may, that was actually quite charitable towards my people. Most think we want to tear _other_ species' throats out by default." She dared to offer a _hint_ of a smile, still trying to feel her way around interacting with the strange woman who commanded the _Heermann_.

"Well, true or not, I'd never hold _that_ against you." She smiled a secretly bemused smile. "Have a good evening, Captain."

"Yourself as well, Commander."

 **Tag**

Zhen'var had called the 'great council', the assemblage of every department head including those under Elia, for her announcement and discussion. She wanted to make sure that her objectives were clear and that the message was taken for what was truly important.

"Good morning everyone, I intend to get started after everyone is comfortable, so please, replicate away." Their first mission _had_ gone well, and she watched everyone milling about as they moved to their seats, laying a few flimsies out before herself in neat piles. _First the debrief, then the upending._

A collection of snacks and coffee soon appeared. CWO Héen and MCPO Dugan were off to the side with coffee, talking to each other and SCPO Ashleigh, the Chief of Boat on the _Heermann_. The rest were fully commissioned officers, but their presence was unusual on Alliance ships where it seemed non-coms were rarely integrated into the command structure. Also noteworthy were the uniforms of Lar'shan and Fei'nur, the two Marines in the room, one with the wings of a Marine aviator. The rest were naval officers.

Will stepped over to Zhen'var's side. He had been briefed in advance, and was still wrapping his head around part of what she was going to say. "Have you noticed before that the Alliance seems to have a problem with its noncoms?"

"They give them the ranks, then the officers show no signs of using them even as a _resource_ , just as gears in the machine that is the crew, yes." She sipped at her chai.

"That's gotta change. We'll pay for it otherwise. The crew of the _Aurora_ is brilliant… But since they got to determine their ranks by fiat when they got started, _everyone_ with the slightest bit of ambition got to be an officer. I explained it to Captain Andreys before I was reassigned. But at least _we've_ got a real winner in Dugan for Chief of the Boat."

"More than that, Will. We have skills, people we won't even _recognize_ as being as valuable as they truly are. I am going to _find_ those people."

"I guess we're going to start today… About ready to get going, I think?"

"I think so. Go ahead and sit down yourself." With that, Zhen'var cleared her throat. "Again, everyone, good morning. For the duration of this meeting, we will be discussing matters like the professionals we are, rank does not matter, and reference shall not be made. We have just come through a very active shakedown cruise, and I will be opening the floor to discussion - what did we do _well_ , what did we do _badly_ , and how do we fix it? I can certainly start - I do not think I had to call you all to stations so many times that Will was starting to consider bringing a pillow to AIO."

There was laughter. A few officers glanced around, trying to get a sense for how this would go. Arterus took a half-step forward. "Captain, it seemed it was necessary to guarantee we were never taken by surprise if events turned hostile," he offered.

"No ranks. I mean that. Nothing said in these hot washes will ever affect someone negatively. _Nothing_." Zhen'var's eyes scanned the room. "Now, if that were the case, was it necessary to keep the crew at stations so long? A relaxed condition with the crew near their stations would have been better, if we had one. Boxed rations and so on to let the crew eat and sleep at stations, perhaps?"

Violeta thought about it. She actually found the meeting kind of cool, not what she expected from Zhen'var's disciplinarian reputation at all. "What if we find a way to give ourselves more warning time? We can set Condition Two - Code Yellow, Condition Yellow - modified ZEBRA and have limited movement through the ship."

"I like that idea, let us build off that. What options _do_ we have to give ourselves more warning time? You will have to _tell_ me, I _did_ spend my entire career learning how Earthforce ships worked. Alliance ships are something of a new experience." Zhen'var smiled, flashing teeth as she reached for a samosa.

"Using fighters as a scouting element," Stasia ventured abruptly, looking up from the knot with the non-com Chiefs. "I mean, why not. They've got warp drives. We could even use the runabouts as well, more powerful sensors. The new bay configuration could let us run a continuous CAP."

"Is it something we can do as is, Ms. Héen, or will we need modifications to be made by ship staff?" Her eyes were alight, as their Captain leaned back in her chair. "Standing CAP, be it barrier or what-ever under the direction of Ops, perhaps?"

"We should be able to keep two flights up continuously, of just fighters, keeping the bombers reserved for a strike," Elia replied at what she felt was her cue. "Maybe deploy in four elements of two, with the two elements in the predicted threat directions reinforced by runabouts? But only for Condition Two or above - the objective is early warning of hostile action in a situation where we _are_ anticipating it, after all. Can you handle that, Ms. Héen?"

"Yeah, we can manage that tempo for a week at stations, if necessary, from the logistics side." She looked to Lar'shan for confirmation.

The Dilgar pilot nodded. "I confess, not only do I approve, but I felt our fighter wing was underutilized in typical Alliance tactics. A standing CAP is a much better option for avoiding surprises and guaranteeing fighter support to any contingency and we should be able to push out several light minutes while still being fully supported."

"Let us work on that. What else do you have to add, Lar'shan? We have a bomber wing, but finding tactics for using it seems to be incredibly difficult in the database. Anyone else have something? Not just the air-wing, any aspect of our operations. One brain is far outmatched by many."

"Let there be a signal to the Chiefs about discretion in manning at Condition One. We can have ready service rations distributed as part of Condition Two preparations and emergency ration lockers can be marked as such and re-stocked from the replicators if it is necessary to go directly to Condition One," Anna replied. "So, if there is a situation at Condition One which merits allowing small rotations of crew to get food or rest, shouldn't that be up to the Chief of the Section?"

"I can trust the Chief's mess to do that, yeah," Rick Dugan finally spoke, brown eyes over mustache as he faced the officers, in fact with all the confidence of a veteran NCO. Zhen'var's bosun on the old _Huáscar_ had been one of her most important loyalists for the new. "Guys get a feel for the tempo of an op pretty fast and know when to do little tasks, when to slow down - to help we can use all these fancy displays to broadcast ship situation reports, right?"

"Do we trust everyone with those?" Arterus asked.

"Hell, if we're boned, you don't need a report to figure that out," Rick answered. "It's more about, say, we need repairs or urgent maintenance, we can swing it at stations if we know the system isn't going to be called up during a fast switchover. The best can figure that out, but cues avoid errors. Same thing with maintenance of _people,_ naps all-standing and eating might make sense for different posts in the ship at different times. Yeah, it's a good idea."

"A _great_ idea." Zhen'var's smile was getting a bit _dangerous_. Rick had brought it to a place she had worried would take longer than this to develop. "It brings up the other reason for this meeting, one I have discussed with Will. As I have said previously, I do not have a strong background in the operation of Multiversal technology, as many of _you_ do. That ignorance could be dangerous, or even fatal. How do we deal with it?"

Daria flexed her ears and blinked. She had felt like she had screwed up with sensor reports from tactical-precisely because they were a responsibility of ops or science from her past understanding-and had been dressed down for it. This was a new event in its openness and frankness. Still, she tried to make it count. "If you don't know how the technology works - you may misapply it - so that the person using the technology may understand the order doesn't match the capability?"

"They may. They should, perhaps, one may even say. Given the need for quick obedience of orders under military discipline… perhaps I should stop giving them? The best thing for an ignorant woman to do is to stop talking, after all." She said it with a cheshire grin on her face, which given the content of her speech, was _strange_.

"Cap-?" Arterus, raised in the Romulan Star Empire, felt something like the universe had become minorly unhinged. He was perceptive, though, and saw that Abebech Imra was _also_ grinning at this point. He abruptly had the feeling he was going to learn something very important.

"I know what I _want_ to do, but not how to do it. If I give you an order to "Plot a course to this system, maximum warp", that is what you will do. An example of _intent_ , Mister tr'Rllaillieu, would be 'I wish to reach this system as quickly as possible, there is a plague which we must deliver our doctor to fight'. You know it is possible to use the IU drive to increase speed. You know my intent and the reasons behind it, you can thus use your skill to get us there faster, in keeping with my _intent_ , whereas my _order_ would have slowed us." Her eyes flicked across the room. "I am going to cease giving all orders except for those involving initial weapons release. The decision to take life when necessary is _my_ moral responsibility as Captain, I shall not force any of you to bear it."

"This will be difficult to push down to a lower level. I admit that I have tended to give _very_ precise orders on the _Heermann,_ " Abebech began. "It is against nature, _especially,_ " she glanced to Arterus, but then also Fei'nur, "to someone coming from a system which strongly selected against it. That includes myself, I might add. But consider the great benefit of this challenge. She's absolutely right-a dozen brains are better than one, a hundred better than a dozen, and a thousand better than a hundred. It's also especially true that it's going to empower our Chiefs, and they're an underutilized asset in the Alliance Navy with real talent and skill. As your comrade, hold me accountable, please, in making a sincere effort to follow this example."

Fei'nur looked horrified. "But Ca… Zhen'var, it's… how are we going to keep _order_ on the lower decks! As quickly as we knock over one still, they've built another!"

"Teach them the _consequences,_ " Will said, his eyes sharp. "Show them what the drinking does to their ability to support their comrades in an immediate crisis. Make them decide being productive sailors is more important than their rot-gut."

"I think holodeck simulations are going to be an important teaching tool…" Zhen'var's eyes were bright as she looked about the room. "We are going to be introducing _mindful action_ as a concept as well. Related to what we have been discussing. You will point, and you will vocalize an action, or what you are checking or observing. Rick, you had a leave in Tokyo, I think, where you would have seen this in action?"

"Yeah, I did. They called it Point-and-Call. In fact, I've got a CPO-Nishimura-who worked for Japan Railways in one of those other universes and actually knows the system. We're gonna use it, aren't we?"

"Dilgar will not think it beneath them, and we have a mostly green crew who are learning how everything works. They can _try_ to make the same number of mistakes as any other crew, but catch them, either themselves, or by others at their stations, or so I would think?"

Fei'nur looked half like she wanted to ask Nah'dur if Zhen'var had been struck in the head recently.

Nah'dur looked to her, and then to Zhen'var. "I believe it meets principles of neurology applicable to most of the crew. The learning curve will be hard, the results worthwhile."

"We're going to be a team implementing this. And an example," Elia clasped her gloved hands together. "We're going to show how systems of redundancy also _empower_ because they provide a control _other_ than the responsibility of a single person giving an order."

Zhen'var felt that made a very nice coda. They would even have the time to implement it in a relatively low-risk sector, since their orders were taking them to a region of space in S4W8 which had been liberated from the Nazi Reich and was filled with non-Germanic ethnic groups. Support for humanitarian relief and nation-building efforts would be the perfect time to get the system down.


	7. Episode 2 Act 1

**Introduction**

Elia returned from Babylon 5 and her temporary assignment to the _Aurora_ looking exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. The transporter deposited her below the bridge with a duffel bag over her shoulder, and she started up to report in to the Officer of the Watch.

Arterus had the rotation. Elia liked him, though they hadn't had much time to talk. He sat with confidence in the command chair, and like essentially all Rihannsu (and Vulcanoids in general) registered as a low-level telepath to Elia, though the nature of their telepathy was subtly different, relying more on electrical fields, and thus far more efficacious in direct skin contact. Elia was still envious of a society where everyone was a telepath.

"Lieutenant tr'Rllaillieu, Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez, reporting for duty with TDY aboard the ASV _Aurora_ complete."

He rose, and saluted. "Commander Saumarez, welcome back aboard. I'm about to initiate a speed run to our jump position. We were supposed to depart for Drachenfeldt four hours ago, but the Captain ordered us to hold and wait for you instead and make up the time."

Elia's eyes widened briefly. _Zhen'var isn't the kind of person who normally makes allowances for friends in operations. Period._ "I won't take up another minute then, Lieutenant…"

"Oh, well, you should at least have the _chai_ the Captain had me keep ready for you," Arterus answered with a chuckle. "She left standing orders about that before she retired for the night, Commander."

"I'm not sure if it's too early or too late, which I suppose means I might as well." Elia looked in comfortable surprise at her favourite thermos being supplied full and hot. "You're a perfect gentleman, Lieutenant. Carry-on!"

"Ma'am!"

Elia headed back to the turbolifts and keyed in the code for the Officer's Mess, nursing the spiced tea as she did. It wasn't always her favourite but right now it made her think of Zhen'var, and home, the _Huáscar,_ and that was important. She felt too keyed up to sleep still, and would have nothing to do until she was put back in rotation, so it made sense to not even think of sleeping.

When she got to the Mess, she saw a table near the bar with Anna and Abebech at it, talking. Elia realised with a jerk that it was actually very early morning for the _Huáscar,_ about 0400 in fact, since the ship ran on Portland time when the _Aurora_ ran on New Liberty time… She was still incredibly out of it from her experiences on Babylon 5.

Anna gestured to one of the empty chairs at the table. "Please, Elia, have a seat. Welcome back. Not even enough time to take your duffel back to quarters?"

"Just didn't much want to." _Don't want to be alone right now, having to think about everything I talked about with Captain Dale._

"What happened?" Anna asked. "Do you want coffee?"

Elia raised her mug. "On top of my tea? Come on, Anna, I'm not that wired… I might, actually. It might be better to stay awake than sleep; I don't want to ask Nah'dur for some pills that will knock me out for the next twenty-four hours, even though it is tempting."

"The bleary realities of the unending absence of sleep," Abebech murmured, surprising Elia. She was getting used to the woman rarely communicating with her, her shields like some kind of pit into which thoughts would slowly disappear. Elia was grateful that Abebech had essentially worked her job for her _in addition_ to Abebech's own for the past weeks, and Abebech was probably brutally exhausted as a result. But some more communication would have been appreciated.

Abebech was another telepath, even if she was from S0T5, where the history of telepaths-'espers'-was mired in uncertainty and legend surrounding the Earthreign. Many states there, as here, oppressed telepaths, and Elia had hoped to share some kindred sentiments with the formidable woman.

Instead, Abebech had maintained a deep reserve of a type alien to most telepaths of her homeworld. There was no mental contact with her, only with the Dilgar onboard who belonged to the Mha'dorn, welcome friends all, to be sure. But now Abebech regarded her from behind those shades she always wore. Elia decided to risk it: _Hi._

"You'd be surprised how much you can keep getting done anyway," Anna interjected.

A very faint smile touched Abebech's lips for a moment. "I am certain the Captain won't return you to rotation for a few days. You can ease yourself back into it."

 _So much for that._ "So what did I interrupt?" Elia dared next.

"Commander Imra and I were having a cordial disagreement about the likely outcome of reorganisation efforts in the Reich. We're going to a planet called Drachenfeldt which has German, Bulgarian and Japanese ethnic communities on it," Anna explained. "Commander Imra thinks the situation will rapidly disintegrate, based on precedent when the local Imperial hegemon is removed and considering Nazi governance practices. Well, I come from the tradition of the Commonwealth, and the voluntary union and collaboration of Poland and Lithuania. I think people actually _can_ learn to work together in the outer regions of the old Reich, even without centuries to become modern or anything else like that."

"The _Rzeczpospolita Obojga Narodów_ was an exceptional case," Abebech countered. "With little comparable precedent in history. The slow collapse of many great Empires, and not just on the ground but also in the stars, suggests a depressing regularity of war as the hinterlands find themselves no longer subjected to a metropole."

Anna rolled her eyes. "You say that, but we did exist successfully for centuries, and it provides a path forward. Or I'm just one of those idealistic _Aurora_ people… So, Elia, what do _you_ think?"

Elia had looked up Drachenfeldt on her tablet in the meantime. One of the first things in the intelligence report was a nationalist music video that had momentarily transfixed her. She looked up with an expression neither of the others liked. "Ladies, I think we're going to _find out._ "

 _ **Undiscovered Frontier: Origins**_

 _ **Season 1 Episode 2**_

 _ **"God Bless the Ottoman Empire"**_

 **Act 1**

Drachenfeldt was a relatively normal third-wave Reich colony deep into the antispinward reaches of Nazi territory which had been occupied two weeks after the Battle of Welthauptstadt Germania and the surrender of the primary Reich elements. Their orders and their arrival had hardly been attended with any kind of urgency. Despite the very real risk of raids from Reich ships which, by the hundreds, had refused to surrender, the planet had no other allied warships in orbit. A single understrength division from the British Stellar Union formed the garrison. For the most part, the trip there had been occupied by training sessions, attempting to sort out point-and-call and Zhen'var's initiative centric command structure.

The reports were composed on the ship's readiness, Fei'nur's on the Marine battalion readiness for ground operations and Security personnel support capability, Nah'dur's on their ability to support humanitarian relief operations, Elia's on their ability to transporter support for humanitarian supplies and transport, and Abebech's on the status of the support wing. Below her fake windows a faithful image of the planet was revealed in all the blue glory of a garden world, of which the Reich had possessed many.

Zhen'var finished the reports, and then headed to the main conference room. There, Will was preparing the briefing as the full strength of her senior officers-even Lieutenant Tor'jar at comms-was mustered along with the senior NCOs. "All right, comrades. Will has put a fair amount of effort into the briefing prep, and he should give us the top down without any problems. If you are ready, Commander, go ahead and get started."

"Of course, Captain." Will smiled, but as his projection came up, he grimaced. "Welcome to Drachenfeldt. It's a fairly typical of the Reich colonisation scheme, Germans occupy the major cities and the most fertile farmland. A bare plurality of the population is Japanese-even after the war which reduced the Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere they were not re-classed as _untermensch_ -but they were subjugated as miners and here were working in the lowest status jobs in processing industries as well. The Japanese are a proud people, and there has been considerable resistance in the past to the Reich overlords." He grimaced again. "With concomitant massacres."

"The next ethnic group comprises the middle-class in the large towns and small cities and holding the marginal farmland and many fishing industry jobs-Bulgarians, who were exempted from the general massacres and reduction of the Slavs by their status as allies during what the Reich historians called the Great Aryan Crusade. It's been the Bulgarian population who have traditionally owned the mines which employ the Japanese, who very slightly outnumber them. Racial enmity between subordinate groups was intentionally kept high by the Gauleiter of the planet according to standard practice in Reich governance. And now comes the bad part."

He took a drink of water, looking up with a wry expression. "So, the commander on the surface has informed us that an extensive store of arms for reserve and second-line forces has been looted and is held in part by all sides; at least some Reich soldiers melted away and are working for the Bulgarian National Council instead of surrendering, and there are probably some Werewolf holdouts as well. So, bottom line: Drachenfeldt is swimming in racial enmity and arms."

"So, you are saying it would be _difficult_ for the situation to be any worse?" A wry tone suffused Zhen'var's voice as she summarized her read of the state of the planet.

Will sucked in his breath and chuckled morbidly as he moved to sit. "Yes, that's about the beginning and the end of it, Captain."

"They aren't shooting each other. Yet." came the gruff voice of their Marine commander, as Zhen'var sarcastically grinned back to Fei'nur. " _Thank you_ , Colonel, you are always capable of finding the way a situation can get worse."

"So… We've got to find a way to help these people all get along when they're interested in score settling and armed to the teeth is the way I see it," Violeta offered. "A challenge, but we've certainly just got to pathfind a solution and keep the peace until civilian resources are brought to bear."

"Were it that simple, Leftenant," Abebech spoke. "The reality is that the Harris Station Charter finds itself committing the Alliance to the partition of Reich space. As a result, our job is to hold _order_ until the final disposition of the planet. No different than one of the great multiethnic Empires of Earth history."

Violeta blanched. She was aware of the Harris Station Charter, but the implications stuck in the craw of any kind of liberty-minded person.

"Not only that, but we must do so with minimal force and an indifferent garrison. A scratch division with limited heavy weapons. Do we have any word on whom the planet is to be assigned to in the…" Her lips curled. "... peace?"

"Not yet, Captain," Will said, more subdued. "Or even 'if'. Might be, might not be. In some way, the collapse of the Reich was faster than expected, the diplomats are still working."

"Not an improvement. Thank you, Commander. We have our orders, even so. We are going to carry them out as best we can, and prepare in case… the usual result of such an ethnic powder-keg comes to pass."

Elia was studying a holo-display from her omnitool. "Captain, shall we deploy a scansat grid? Not just for communications but also to support distributed sensor networking for armaments detection. It seems worthwhile in the situation you've just described."

"Please. Any other ideas from the table? This is going to be a difficult situation, at _best_." Zhen'var's eyes flicked around the officers and NCOs gathered. "Our _intent_ is to find the best outcome for the planet and its' people, _without_ violating our over-arching orders.."

"We need to find out what the common people actually need," Goodenough offered from the wing of the table occupied by _Heermann_ officers.

"Concur," Anna added. "The Reich has ruled these peoples like serfs-which mean the politically active will be the upper class. We might override whatever their objectives are if we can just offer immediate needs to the mass of the people."

"To a point. Even an under-class can have some level of organization. There will be _many_ conflicting interests, and even more hidden ones we cannot see. Let us try and divine what of them we can. Everyone, get comfortable. We may be here quite a while..."

* * *

That evening, Zhen'var received a communication from the surface as she was in her ready room. An officer in British khakis with the rank of Major, a fresh-faced, freckled redhead, appeared on her screen. "Major Sara Haraway, adjutant for CO, Drachenfeldt Garrison Division. Captain Zhen'var, _Huáscar_ commanding?" Receiving a nodded confirmation, she continued. "Brigadier Jonathan Peacham, divisional commander, sends his compliments and invites you and your senior officers to Saackenweld, the planetary capitol, for dinner and an opportunity to meet officials of the local population."

"Thank you, Major. Do you have a preliminary report on the local situation for my officers? We stand ready to assist you as may be needed, with up to a single ad-hoc battalion." She was all business, voice already having developed the same sort of mixed accent Warmaster Shai'jhur possessed.

"It's been hard enough for us to simply patrol the built-up areas around the capitol, I'm afraid, and we only have a brigade-level staff. The briefing you got is probably all the prelims we sent out. BLUF is there's two major organised groups, the Bulgarian National Council, and the Rejuvenation Society, which was a secret society of the ethnically Japanese miners. Both are armed. The Germans are quiescent, frankly in a state of shock over the Reich being defeated. The Brigadier will try to fill you in with more details when you arrive on the surface."

"Good enough, Major. I will assemble a delegation. We will see your CO for dinner. Please extend my thanks to Brigadier Peacham."

"Of course, Captain. Eighteen hundred, if you please. Local, of course-in two and a half hours."

"See you then." With a sharp nod, she let the connection break… already dreading a formal event as this. Now she needed to figure out who to bring. _Elia has certain special skills, certainly. Fei'nur is not… exceptionally diplomatic, but useful if the_ ** _other_** _side is less than diplomatic. I should bring one of the Warrants as well, if I am treating them as warrant officers. Nah'dur will never forgive being left behind. Will will keep in command in my absence… I'll ask Imra if she has any she'd nominate for the experience from her crew as well. Fera'xero can't eat the food… I'll let the Chiefs pick one of their number, remember,_ ** _intent_** _, Zhen!_

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Zhen'var had assembled her entourage in the transporter room-mostly. Stasia and Chief Rajia Kerandit, the later a bluish Dorei man, arrived by selection just before Elia came in, leading Arterus and Daria. Fei'nur was already waiting, and Commander Imra had encouraged her to bring Ca'elia, saying the woman had a good bearing for such an event. Nah'dur was dawdling somewhere, since she hadn't showed up yet.

 _Just because you are my half-sister, Nah'dur, that does not give you license to be tardy!_

"Lieutenants, Colonel, Chiefs. Everyone looked over the quick _British Mess Etiquette_ pamphlet sent along with your instructions?"

"Yes," generally came a list of affirmations.

"Never been to anything fancy like this, Captain," Stasia murmured. "Closest thing to it was ceremonial feasts back home."

Before Zhen'var could reply, Nah'dur came running into the transporter room, and then climbed up onto a spare pad without a word, looking innocent while she breathed hard.

"Surgeon-Commander, have _you_ reviewed your etiquette pamphlet, now that you have decided to join us?" She was smiling, even as she delivered the gentle rebuke.

"Oh, ah, well, keep my back stiff and use a fork and knife!"

Zhen'var gave her ship's doctor a _look_. It was _not_ an approving one. "If you have not reviewed the pamphlet, Surgeon-Commander, are you _certain_ you are ready for this meeting?"

Nah'dur straightened crisply to attention. "Battlemaster, I am prepared to comport myself." The sting had clearly hurt, particularly in public.

Zhen'var gave her a long, searching look, before she gave a single nod and turned towards the transporter operator. "When you are ready, beam us down." Zhen'var's expression didn't show the slight twinge of guilt she felt at reprimanding her half-sister like that, but Nah'dur was still rather… _unpolished_. She _was_ young.

"Aye-aye, Captain!" The transporter operator looked like he was trying to hide a grin as they vanished. Whatever they would think of it, Zhen'var's sharp dressing down of her sister was going to make _waves._

The last thing he saw as the team flashed out of existence was his captain's glowering look of disapproval aimed at _his_ grin.

* * *

After the usual pleasantries on the surface, they were taken in seized Daimler aircars to the old Wehrmacht Hauptquartier in Saackenweld. A Brigadier in British mess dress, of a mixed ethnicity similar to Goodenough's, British to the core, stood with a group of three Colonels and two Majors, including Sara, with escorts and guards standing by. Likewise standing at the reception line was a group of eleven men in Reich formal civilian dress.

"Captain Zhen'var," he presented his hand, "and officers of the _Huáscar,_ welcome to Drachenfeldt. I am Brigadier Peacham and, according to someone in the Alliance who thought it a good idea, I am the Governor of Drachenfeldt."

One could, in fact, see a slightly portly man of a vaguely Slavic extraction grimace at the words. He was dark-bearded with a hint of gray, at the head of the group in attendance, which was unsurprisingly all-male. The Reich had enforced gender roles even among its subject nations it had seen fit to allow to live.

Giving her own gloved hand as she stood to attention, Zhen'var gave them a thin smile. "A pleasure, Brigadier Peacham. May I present Colonel Fei'nur, head of my Marines and Security detachments, Commander Saumarez, my Operations officer, Lieutenant Seldayiv, tactical officer, Lieutenant tr'Rllaillieu, astrogation officer, Lieutenant Ca'elia, helmswoman of the _Heermann_ , Chief Warrant Officer Héen, and Senior Chief Petty Officer Kerandit."

" _Officers,_ " he said after a moment, and allowed a small smile. "Colonels Roberson, Tirulipatti, and Ferazad. Majors Haraway and Acharya. And, to our left, President Ivan Alferov of the Bulgarian National Council, with the extraordinary committee of the National Council."

Zhen'var nodded politely to each of the officers, before giving a polite "Your Excellency." to President Alferov. This certainly _felt_ fraught enough, and they'd barely even started.

"Captain," he replied, staring sharply at the aliens, herself included, for a moment.

"This way, please, _Offiziere und Herren_ ," the maître d'hôtel bowed deeply and precisely. They were shown to their seats according to rank, keeping Peacham, Zhen'var and the 'President' close together.

The table was expansively laid with fish, shrimp and mutton, curries and kedgeree. It was _not_ what one would expect of traditional British cuisine, but the British Stellar Union was a radically different land. It was served with wheat bread, but roti and gurung were the styles, not western loafs. Perhaps the most familiar touch was the pot of _something_ next to the bread that looked suspiciously like Marmite instead of an Indian chutney, and the extensive use of peas in the curries and the presence of kippers and jellied eels amongst the hors d'oeuvre, or the mutton being served with mint sauce.

It was a bittersweet reminder of home for Zhen'var, one she didn't dare let any of their hosts recognize.

"Captain," Ivan began. "I've heard that you Dilgar fought a very famous war yourselves, were defeated, but have lately survived and recovered - everyone knows of the assault on Welthauptstadt Germania, it will live on as a great gesture, many of the liberated nations shall remember it fondly." While he spoke, the Bulgarian man was ladling shrimp and salmon into a roti which he then covered in Raita for the want of sour cream, and finishing his sentence, began to eat with gusto. From the sommelier's wine selections he was downing a Lechthaler from the Trentino.

"The war is very famous in our home universe, at least, sir. It is part of our recovery to pay such dues in blood as fate deems required." Her voice was quiet, as she carefully assembled a plate for herself, small selections of most of the meat dishes adorning it when she was finished.

"I think your national reconstruction is quite well along, Captain!"

He looked like he wished to rise with his wine glass, and Brigadier Peacham quickly tinged his glass and avoided the _faux pas_ for his officers by rising first. "The Queen."

Zhen'var led her officers in responding to the Loyal Toast, as was proper, even if it was _doubly_ strange for her. She was also next in rank and would need to propose the next toast.

She rose, catching herself before starting with 'Warmaster', and spoke calmly; "President Morgan."

They began the table. Ivan Alferov finally had his chance, and rose, but had composed himself, instead of a more informal slavic toast, what followed was impressive bombast. "To the Bulgarian National Liberation Movement!" There was a moment of nervous silence as the allied officers tried to figure out how to respond to it. Before they could, he simply continued talking.

"Comrades, allies, friends of the Bulgarian Nation, who have been so cruelly oppressed by the savage and barbaric, the merciless _Nemski,_ today we stand on the edge of the Dawn! This world, which the Nazis call Drachenfeldt and which we shall call Nowo-Apraxin, shall be the new home of the Bulgarian people! Here shall we remember Tarnovo and Sofiya in our construction, and become the natural home of the Bulgarian nation in exile. _Nazdráve,_ comrades!" He raised his glass and drank. And drank.

He wasn't finished as he refilled his wine from a carafe on the table. "Soon the Bulgarian nation shall join other races like the Gersallians and Dorei as a full member of the Alliance, here where we will obtain our natural and full development. The mines of this world are our natural path to economic sovereignty and prosperity and our inherent and sovereign mineral wealth will allow all of our pensioners to enjoy vacations throughout the Alliance and other natural aspirations of the Bulgarian people to the style of life from which they have for so long been cruelly denied. Bulgarian arms, like those of our brave Dilgar friends, will become renowned throughout the Multiverse, and we shall again propagate the Orthodox faith to our brothers far and wide, and renew the true Christian Church!"

 _Why, Almighty, why did he just have to_ ** _keep talking_** _…?_ Zhen'var's expression had frozen into a polite smile. She had expected the bombast… but there were _multiple_ other groups on this _planet_ that might object.

Elia had a perfectly frozen smile on her face that matched her Captain's. Nah'dur looked like she was fascinated in a disturbingly clinical sense. Perhaps Fei'nur was the least bothered, the Colonel not understanding why there was anything _wrong_ with what the President was doing or saying!

After the dinner was over, Peacham approached Zhen'var as she wandered away from the table, the Bulgarians slowly being herded away in their drunken boisterousness. "Captain, one of the reasons I brought you here was to see the situation in the flesh - my problem is that, to be quite frank, Alferov's _Panteri,_ panthers, the paramilitaries of the Bulgarian National Council, could easily overwhelm my division."

"I am concerned that _any_ of the planetary groups, with how many weapons have gone missing, could cause a disasterous reverse, Brigadier. We should perhaps bring Colonel Fei'nur into this discussion. It will be her that, I think, your request will fall heaviest upon?"

"Certainly, Captain, that's her, correct?" He pointed to Fei'nur. "I confess I'm not familiar with your people, but the look of a veteran is clear enough."

"A long service veteran up from the ranks, she is. The only of us here who _fought_ in that war Alferov mentioned, and has gone through hells darker than I want to imagine to stand here today."

Peacham nodded with a quiet recognition, stepping forward with Zhen'var. "Colonel Fei'nur. Glad to make your acquaintance. Your Captain and I were just discussing some operational matters."

"Brigadier." She stiffened momentarially to attention, before returning to her previous posture. "A Marine deployment is in the offing, Captain?"

"Perhaps worse than that, Colonel. The situation is most poor. Please, continue, Brigadier."

"Alferov's paramilitaries alone have enough strength to overwhelm us, Colonel. But their preoccupation is with the 'Rejuvenation Society', the Japanese paramilitaries who have seized the planet's mines. In particular the entire contents of a major reserve depot called Grunwald 9 were seized by the Rejuvenation Society. I can't realistically get Alferov to disarm until the Rejuvenation Society has been disarmed, so I'd like to use your battalion to search the mining districts near Grunwald 9 for caches of arms."

"It puts small groups of my people in position to be overwhelmed, Brigadier. I would need to come down in force, and it _will_ anger the local populace. Beyond the usual atrocities and retribution that accompany any situation as this. They will resist my efforts and refuse our authority. You still wish me to try, however, by your expression…?"

"We have no choice if we are to keep the peace, Colonel. If you could land as soon as is practical, tomorrow, perhaps?"

Fei'nur's expression was glum, as she nodded. "Let me give them a good breakfast before we beam down, then. Captain, I'll need all the heavy equipment we have, and can replicate. Armour is critical to suppressing overt resistance." She paused, and went on with the air of a woman resigned. "At least until they start firing anti-tank missiles."

* * *

The next day around 1100 _Huáscar_ time, the transporters began landing troops and gear, with the transports bringing in certain heavy equipment unsuited for transport behind them. The Marine battalion had only three companies, but with various specialist troops from the _Huáscar_ 's FMF, Fei'nur could fill out the rank table of a full battalion. Supporting them was a company of Security personnel, wearing the Navy BDUs rarely seen in the less formal service.

She was still thinking dark thoughts at how utterly _stupid_ this idea was, heading down with the first waves to set up the perimeter for the transports - the Security troops would follow later, though the ad-hoc nature of the full ground deployment made her grind her teeth. The old veteran felt like she was being thrown to the sabre-cats by the 'garrison' of the planet, and she used that term _very_ loosely.

The transports quickly set down the full complement of twelve cruiser tanks which were carried in the holds during war fit, but weren't even necessarily part of the regular peacetime equipment. They had no others, though there was a scouting company of twenty-eight heavy armoured cars and a fire support section of six self-propelled railguns capable of firing smart submunition projecting shells.

As they moved out to establish their first-line perimeter from the landing zone, one of the companies was assigned to set their positions along a rail corridor. Traditional railways were still highly efficient for things like ore hauling, and that's exactly what the Reich was using them for in this case.

The light utility trucks they used for general mobility, and the hover-cars for forward reconnaissance, went zooming down the roads with their heavy repeating pulse rifles and automatic mortars crewed. Giant mountains loomed around them, while the terrain itself featured rolling hills opening into wider valleys, with deep-cut valleys into the rock covered mostly in trees ahead, though several vicious yellow scars from mine tailings were well-visible.

It hadn't been but five minutes or ten when Fei'nur's omnitool flashed an urgent incoming message. "Colonel, this is Sergeant Waters, First Scouting Element." Jessica Waters had been one of the rare soldiers as _Corporal_ Waters on the _first Huáscar_ who had not merely followed Zhen'var into exile, but followed her to her new command as well. "You need to see this, Sir. It's… Bad."

"I have some suspicions. In person, or via the tool, Sergeant?" Fei'nur was already remembering some of the very many horrible things they already could have stumbled upon. _Probably bodies. The question is how displayed, in a way that would disturb a combat veteran._

"There's no need to turn it into a theatre," Sergeant Waters answered after a moment. She tapped her omnitool a few times, and projected the image so Fei'nur could see it as a hologram on her own.

It clearly showed a line of at least dozens of decapitated bodies, strung from the catenary towers of the railway line. They were hung upside down with razor wire by the ankles, with the heads on the ground below them and large quantities of blood, suggesting they'd been beheaded in place. Placards with an unfamiliar script-no, it was recognisable, the script of the Japanese and her old Warmaster's great rival-marked each corpse.

The old Colonel's lips curled. "We'll use drones to cut them down, and use the earthmover attachments to at least bury them in a mass grave. The archives are all that needs to keep seeing this. It's clearly begun - the strife I was dreading. Keep your perimeters tight, everyone. _Nobody_ can be presumed friendly here." _It's always the same._ Fei'nur growled as she cleared the holo-display, the auto-translator helpfully giving her the text the local guerrillas had intended to provide an example.

" _This German Defiled Japanese Womanhood"_

 _"This German Killed Japanese Youth"_

 _"Rejuvenation of Society shall come in blood!"_

 _"Let us all join in the national reconstruction."_

The bloodletting had begun, and now Fei'nur intended to keep her people _out_ of it. Finding arms caches came second to avoiding the quicksand this situation could become, very, very quickly. Still, she had orders, as she gathered her forces into scratch battle groups.

* * *

The next component of the operation required actually meeting with the miners. It had been straightforward enough for Zhen'var to agree to direct Fei'nur to use operational latitude in her approach. Disarming those who were armed was done when they agreed to it, or when they were dead, nothing more.

Battle armor was not exceptionally diplomatic, but it was something Fei'nur would _never_ go without in a hostile situation… unless she was invisible, and that was _difficult_ to reconcile with a diplomatic meeting.

The mining town was stark, simple buildings built of clapboard, tin metal, wood and a little bit of handmade stonework. Company stories and processing facilities. Dust everywhere. And barricades with rising sun flags blocking their direct approach by road or rail. The town had no names on the maps, just _O. Targonoff Company Town No.17,_ the property of someone other than its inhabitants, even the name of its owner twisted to fit German expectations. But now the inhabitants were armed, and they had some idea of their use, from the way positions were emplaced covering the barricades from three angles. The company commander under Fei'nur, Captain Gei'fuor, quickly brought her troops to a halt and prepared to set her dispositions. "We can break through it easily enough, but it will require a set-piece assault to breach, Colonel." The Dilgar mind still turned instinctively toward dealing with the problem directly. The old Empire days were not quite gone from the heart.

"It will, but we aren't going to assault. No Dilgar blood for someone _else's_ future colony. Get me two volunteers, one with a truce flag, another with the Alliance flag. Set your troops in covering positions, though go ahead and draw up the assault plans. I'm going to go try and talk to some brave and stubborn men over there." Her eyes were narrowed through her visor as she breathed through the filters that covered the bottom part of her face.

"Understood, Battlemaster!" A flashed salute, and the positions were laid out. Two volunteers came forward, with quickly improvised flagpoles, reported to Fei'nur, one Dilgar and one human.

"If they start shooting, pop your personal shields and _fall back into cover_ , understood? No heroes for scraps of cloth against this lot. Keep far enough back to not be in the same fire-lines as I. Any questions?" Her mind flashed ahead, as Fei'nur wanted to grit her teeth at the sheer idiocy of this entire _plan_.

"Understood, Colonel!" Flashed salutes, the Marines weren't about to give them over, and they headed forward under cover.

At first there was no response from the lines of the miners. The two soldiers with their flags stood there, utterly exposed, for two, maybe three minutes. And then a man wearing a hachimaki and miners' overalls stepped forward with a rifle slung at his shoulder, carrying his own Japanese banner, and walked out to meet them.

Fei'nur stood there in the open, daring to let her rank flashes show in the active camouflage paint upon her armor, her own rifle slung the entire time. A single, sharp bow of the head was the most politeness she would give, in an _attempt_ to put the locals at ease.

A second man stepped out. Burly, his hair still dark, he went right for Fei'nur, and stopped ten paces away.

"I am Colonel Fei'nur of the Alliance. What is the name of your village, and who am I talking to?" Her question was level, if wary.

"We call this place Matsuo, alien Colonel," he replied. "I am Haikyo Jun, the Chairman of the Rejuvenation Society for Matsuo. Why do you come to our town, Colonel?"

"I am to keep order in these areas, and attempt to arrange _mutual_ disarmament of heavy weapons between yourselves and the Bulgarian movement." _Which is not exactly my orders, but those orders will get me shot with a grenade launcher if inflexibly applied._

"Colonel, you doubtless have your orders," he answered. "However, understand that we have paid for this land in the blood of our fathers, our grandfathers, our sons and brothers, who have died in these mines, and in our daughters and sisters and wives and mothers who have been poisoned here and died. Their blood is in this ground, they are interred in this ground, their spirits are in this ground. They have bought it for us. We no longer have Japan, but here we may be Japanese, honour our ancestors, and restore our traditions. This is what our toil has won, we will not ever concede it to the Bulgarians."

"I… wasn't asking you to." Fei'nur blinked, visibly confused. "Gods, if they'd tried to take our factories and housing blocks from us, we'd have taken up arms just like you have. I'm just trying to help keep more people who _don't_ deserve it from dying. That's all."

"This is exactly what the Bulgarians want! Here, we are Japanese, we want lands enough for our people and these mines," he thundered sharply, now. "Tell the Bulgarians we will partition fairly the lands of the Germans. We are free. We will not take orders from your Alliance, we have not fought you, we have not been defeated by you. We will protect our homes and grow strong with them. That is our terms. The Bulgarians have cut off our supply of food and would starve us into being their slaves! If you do not send us food, or they do not, we will have to take it from the villages around us. That is just the truth, Colonel."

"Humanitarian aid is something I can _request._ I'm not giving you orders, but my troops won't be leaving, either. Is this understood and fair to your thinking?" Fei'nur was trying to cogitate as quickly as she _could_ to keep the lid on the boiling tension.

"I am stating facts," Jun answered, and folded his arms impassively. "We will not be denied food. Stay out of our towns, Colonel. We are a free people now, and we will not give that up."

"You would be…" Fei'nur trailed off, and shook her head. "Your words are noted, and will be passed on." The veteran Colonel gave a sharp, shallow bow and turned to depart. _The situation gets messier and messier..._

* * *

Zhen'var had at least had an entire week of uninterrupted sleep when the call came from the surface. It flashed on her red priority channel and shook her awake in her cabin in the middle of the ship's night, the light side of Drachenfeldt below her, but the view blanked out to give her a pitch-black rest.

Letting out a softly grumpy noise, she rolled far enough to flick on a dim light, blinking furiously as her eyes tried to adjust, pulling on a uniform jacket and yanking her hair back into order with rough quickness. Only then did she acknowledge the message. " _Huáscar_ Actual, go ahead."

"Captain Zhen'var." It was Brigadier Peacham. "We've had an urgent, and concerning development. There's a local holonet broadcast on the H-band, 22Mhz frequency, which is coming from an unknown vessel at sea. They're using moon bouncing to reach their immediate vicinity _and_ a large part of the planet, and it seems they're broadcasting propaganda associated with the Internal Apraxin Revolutionary Organisation, IARO, which is an extremist splinter group from the Bulgarian National Council."

Zhen'var grimaced, her expression darkening. "So the incitement has begun, then? We will have to move against the transmissions, of course, quietly. A moment, Brigadier." She paused, then pressed her comms key for the intercom. "Captain to bridge. There is someone on the planet below broadcasting an incitement to mass violence via lunar reflection down below. We need it stopped, _now_."

"We've got the broadcast," Will answered a moment later, having already ordered the science officer on duty to pull it. "Do you want to see it, Captain? We're trying to localise it now."

"Go ahead and feed it down here, Commander. I might as well see how bad it is." She forced herself out of her chair to replicate a cup of chai, hope of more sleep now truly lost.

The broadcast was impressive in its hokey authenticity, considering the bleak subject matter. A green flag with a yellow lion rampant, faced hoist, flashed on the screen, the flag emblazoned with the words in Bulgarian cyrillic "Liberty or Death". Images of beautiful mountains covered in trees in summer flashed by and were replaced with a recording of a band with an accordion, drums and several string instruments. A man was singing. Everyone was wearing a balaclava.

"Bulgarian people, arise from your slumber…"

"...As long as there is Apraxin, Bulgars shall exist.."

The song faded into what looked like a news broadcast being run entirely by people in balaclavas and camo fatigues. This part actually looked live. "This is a News Broadcast of the Resistance Force of the Internal Apraxin Revolutionary Organisation! Comrades, Bulgarians, Christians, tonight we read the truth of resistance."

The man had a rifle on his desk as a prop as he spoke, and he kept one hand lovingly on the barrel shroud. "The incredible defeat of the Nemski has removed forever the notion of Reich invincibility. Right now we are praying for the Christian evangelism of the Nemski, who were subjugated by the precursor of the Anti-Christ, Adolf Hitler himself. A restoration of Christian civilisation generally is absolutely necessary in general and on Apraxin in particular if we are to successfully resist the impetus of the Asiatics, who even now are seizing the legitimate property of the Bulgarian nation."

"Nowo Apraxin is absolutely critical as the legitimate homeland of the Bulgarian nation, to allow our natural, national restoration. The wealth represented on this world will allow us to become a great nation among the Multiverse, and must be stoutly defended. Recall, too, that asiatics have a natural lust for white women and the power the treasonous miners have gained by seizing Reich arms is a severe threat to our civilisation and womanhood. Unless the Alliance moves immediately to restore Bulgarian control of the mines, extreme measures will be required! Nemski, be reminded that we are fellow Europeans, return to God, and understand that the protection of your daughters as well is a sacred charge of Christian Bulgarian manhood. If you respect our rights to Nowo Apraxin, due consideration for your survival and prosperity will be taken into account." He held the rifle up with one hand and shook it. "If you do not, it will be impossible for the manhood of the Bulgarian nation to protect your daughters from the Japanese! You will know the shame of being helpless unless you submit yourselves to our rule!"

Zhen'var turned the feed off. She'd seen enough. "Will, has there been any luck localizing the transmission?"

"No, Captain, it's coming from a large cluster of fishing boats working the same grounds. Because they're bouncing it off the moon-that's an old trick-it's too broad band to identify the exact transmission source in the group. I did however ask that Chief Héen organise a reconnaissance. She chose to scramble the alert fighters for a closer look."

"Understood. They will probably have gone to ground by then, but there is a chance we will get lucky."

* * *

Lar'shan usually took the alert lead on the night shift to set a good example for the rest of his pilots so they could actually get some sleep during the normal ship's night. Ironically, this had already led to his being scrambled, since crises seemed to like to evolve on the _Huáscar_ in the middle of the night, following some ancient rule of the universe that trouble woke people up from a well-earned slumber.

They dove through the atmosphere in fifteen minutes, Stasia's slightly warbling and high but cute voice guiding them in. "All right, you're fifty klicks off the bank at five klicks asl, heading two-three-niner. Go ahead and drop down to one klick asl and prepare your pass, PriFly Actual over."

"Copy PriFly Actual, this is WC-50 Actual, we are descending and will make a left bank around Point Echo. Infrared cameras on."

Circling the position, the footage was being broadcast directly to the _Huáscar_ and resolved into a digital, three-dimensional image of each of the trawlers. As each georeferenced point in the orbit of the fighters was correlated relative to each other, a full three-dimensional model of each of the trawlers was constructed by the computers on the starship.

Ensign Oulata in the science department was on duty, and immediately processed the images through standard recognition databanks. The cross-correlation produced nothing. There were no unusual antennae or broadcasts.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he reported to Will. "The models are good, but it doesn't matter. The power draw is the same as the other trawlers and there's no unusual antennae on any of them. We can't localise the signal."

"Lords," Will sighed. "I'm sorry, Captain, but no dice."

* * *

Rolling through the valleys, most of the eyes were pointed up, beyond being on swivels. An ambush from top down was always the worst. The hovercars zipped up and down the side slopes while the wheeled vehicles rolled fast down the road, heading toward the next village. The flocks of sheep fled from their approach across the fields marked by wooden fences across steep hillsides. Here and there, a herdsman on horseback or a shepherd boy looked down at the rolling convoy. It was summer, and rich red dust was rolling out behind them from the tyres as the pintle gunners sat uneasy at their mounts.

Jessica Waters was commanding the platoon, since the "scratch" nature of their fourth company made them short on officers. She appreciated the fact Fei'nur trusted her as one of the sergeants with a platoon command in exigencies. Certainly she had never expected to be taking orders from a Dilgar. Fei'nur was as rough and gruff as the worst old GROPOS gunny she could remember, but was a good mustang and remembered where she came from and trusted her and the other human NCOs, if anything a little more than her own.

Unfortunately there was no time for reminiscence. The scene she had witnessed the day before was graphic proof of how dangerous the situation was that kept her platoon hot and ready. The radio crackled every few seconds with a new report from the outriders or the IED detection wheeled drones rolling ahead of the vehicles. The utter _medieval_ nature of the scene around them bothered her, too. Other than the line of fibre-optic and power transmission wire quaintly suspended from wooden poles alongside the road, it looked like a fantasy novel instead of a modern colonial society. To Jess, who grew up with domes, the very human geography was deeply unsettling, right down to the packed dirt her column roared up toward the village of Ticha.

The town was made of crofter's homes of rock, wood and thatch. There was a small clinic of the Health Department of the _Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda_ and a grander building marked _Reichspost - Hilfsbüro Esläuft._ The signs to the town had been marked Ticha in Bulgarian and _Esläuft_ in German-the Reich had not even permitted their subject peoples uncontested rights to name their villages. A pub or drinking hall and a few shops, barely grander than the houses, rounded the place out. It had perhaps seven hundred inhabitants.

"They have a post office?" One of Jess' soldiers asked incredulously.

"Yeah, subject races were banned from using their extranet to keep it pure and Aryan, so they provided an 'auxiliary post' for them," the driver shouted up.

"Damnit, Jackson, you're some kind of nerd."

Around the now halted column a large number of townspeople had gathered. Sergeant Waters hopped down from the IFV and flipped up the goggles on her helmet. The universal translator handled Bulgarian well enough. "People of Ticha, we are Alliance soldiers who have arrived to restore order after the defeat of the Nazi Reich."

"Heil _Allianz_!" One of them shouted with a crisp Hitler salute. Many others followed the gesture, almost instinctually. "Thank you for rescuing us from our tormentors!"

Jess saw one of her troopers flinch visibly at the symbology, but she knew that the villagers just didn't know any other way to greet foreign troops, and would have been in hot shit if they hadn't saluted for an SS column rolling through, so why not salute for the Alliance that had liberated them? "Thank you. We will be assessing your needs and moving up the road tomorrow. We'll make camp outside of town on the north side," she explained.

A couple of men stepped forward, exchanging glances. It wasn't hard to figure out they weren't used to women in positions of authority in the military. One of them was an Orthodox Priest, the others slightly more prosperous versions of the mass, shopkeepers perhaps. The Priest spoke. "Shall the livelihoods or faith of the village be altered, Ma'am?"

"Absolutely not! We will, however, provide food and medical assistance, if required."

"Medical treatment?" One of the men in the crowd dared to scoff. "That is what the Germans promise us, but our children just get sick and die, all we have is prayer to Holy God!"

 _Children get sick and die…_ Jess grimaced. "May I see?" Glancing back. "Corpsman to the front on the double! PO Symonds," she added, addressing the one science rating from Fera'xero's department, embedded into the platoon for analytics on the surface, "get your sensors running. Atmospherics."

"Understood, Sergeant!" Over the next ridge was one of the largest strip mines they'd ever seen, after all, with warrens of tunnels extending deeper in from it.

Jess and Ger'ahn, the corpsman, went forward together to where a group of children were being kept away from the others. They looked _horrible,_ malnourished and sickly, a couple coughing with disturbing substances coming from their lungs. The medical scanners required only seconds.

"Atmospheric heavy metals poisoning, Ma'am," he said flatly. "They're as bad off as I was as a kit, except they'll just keep getting worse from this instead of reaching a homeostasis like we do with the spores."

"Yeah, I thought so. We need a medical team with a Doctor down here, don't we?" The sheer magnitude of the problem was starting to dawn on her.

"Yes Ma'am. Probably every down-wind village, too."

"I'll comm Commander Saumarez."

* * *

The next day, a request for a meeting by CWO Héen flashed onto Zhen'var's calendar. The commander of the small craft support operations was not a common visitor to the Captain's office, though she had certainly been fully willing to bring concerns before, with her forthright practicality as a former merchant mariner.

She tapped 'approved', fitting her just before lunch, wondering just what the Air Boss wanted to bring up. _If this is the start of my ideas bearing fruit, I shall take it. She always seemed a skilled sort, one of the founding cadre of the Alliance._

Anastasia arrived for the meeting in her light blue flying corps uniform, crisp with the pinned-up blouse, and hair pulled back in a long braid. "Captain, thank you for seeing me so quickly."

"No issue, Chief. Sit, please. Replicator is yours if you wish anything. I admit, we have not talked very often, what is this about?" Her voice was querulous, not sharp.

"Well," she took a cup of coffee, and smiled faintly. "I want to go to the surface. The fishing boats were operating out of a town called St. Mark of Apraxin, and I think I can find out from the local community, or with their help identify who is behind the broadcasts. I'm a fisherwoman myself, owned my own purse seiner in the past. And though I'm lapsed from the faith, I was raised Orthodox. I can speak their language in a cultural sense. That's going to be the only way to crack this, and I want to, I have tools that are useful and I can help stop a genocide from starting on our watch."

Zhen'var leaned back, face inscrutable as she considered the idea. "It is commendable initiative, Chief, and while I am wary, I support the intent of the idea. You will lead the team."

"A team, Captain? Well, very well; I don't really want to end up dead," she answered back, a hair wryly, and sipped her coffee. "We should have a science officer and a portable sensor pack in case we end up trailing them at sea."

"Agreed. A Mha'dorn as well? Security with an NCO, I think?" She was asking, not ordering, phrasing suggestions in that way.

"All right, a security squad and a Mha'dorn officer as well. That makes… Eleven of us. Quite the little troupe, though," she frowned. "Well. I guess it's needed considering the opposition we might face, and it will look more like an assistance group, then. Yes, that will do, Captain. By your permission?"

"So granted, Chief. Good luck in your first detached command." Her eyes gleamed, in that sort of way that implied the Captain was _plotting_ something.


	8. Episode 2 Act 2

**Act 2**

Arriving on the surface, Stasia beamed down to St. Mark of Apraxin with Ensign Kel'dar, a Mha'dorn working as an ops officer. With them was a security detachment of eight under PO Arvarez and Ensign Oulata, an Alakin science officer. As a CWO in the Alliance system, Stasia could issue orders to non-command-grade commissioned officers when so-assigned, as was the case now, but it didn't make her particularly happier about the situation since it seemed like too many people in general.

On foot with backpacks and battle harnesses, they made an immediate stir. People arrived by transporter _rarely_ in St. Mark of Apraxin, and some of the old folk crossed themselves. The dirt streets ran down the hills into the cove, laid out with trawlers and inshore fishers at anchor, nets and traps out to dry. Combined with the Orthodox Church prominently at the centre of the town, it actually seemed a little like home. Stasia had them wearing the Surface Weather Conditions Covering (SWCC), a fancy name for a greatcoat over their Navy BDUs that were intended as camo away team dress, but the _kepi_ option instead of a helmet to reflect the intended lack of combat risk. With a chill air coming in off the sea the coat was appreciated.

Based on local intelligence, there was an 'Outlanders Hotel' close to the Church, and Stasia started wandering that way. Alongside of it were a series of Ship's Chandlers and a couple of General Stores, the fish processing plant was located on the edge of town and a row of restaurants and bars led from it to the centre of town-pretty typical. The usual Reich-run Health Department office and Reichspost were overt signs of the government's presence, with the more ominous one being that St. Mark of Apraxin was big enough to warrant a Gestapo office which was still marked by an Eagle clutching a Swastika close to the local police headquarters. There had been surveillance cameras, but their poles were all ripped down and the cameras themselves stolen or smashed.

There was a small bike and car repair shop next to a building identifying itself as the hotel, with a second hotel further down. A group of men were working under a few rigged lights, rewiring and soldering connections to make the fuel cells on an old model Volkswagen work again, drinking beers and stealing glances at a soccer match being broadcast from the capitol.

"Hej, guys, the Allianz has come!" One of them shouted, spying Stasia and her team. A crowd quickly started gathering.

Stasia couldn't help but tense. Most of the population was beat-down, old before their time. Not completely unlike her little hardscrabble village, frankly, a fact she didn't much like to think of. A few of the merchants took great pride in their clothes, but most did not have the money for that. There was a priest, though, descending from the steps of the church.

"Alliance soldiers, why have you come?"

"Father, bless," Anastasia Héen answered formally, and bowed, the priest giving her an instant opportunity to make some friends. "Father, we're sailors, we're here as part of an assistance program to help with the fishing yields. National reconstruction!" She saw the plump woman in formal old Bulgarian national costume who approached at the priest's side, clearly his wife, and bowed again. " _Matushka_."

"Has the National Council approved your assistance?" The Priest asked suspiciously, though he was astonished at her correctness, and the unfamiliar word seemed to spark a flicker of surprise.

"What do you know about fishing!?" Someone in the crowd shouted.

"Yes, they are aware, Father," Stasia answered, and crossed herself. "I have skippered a trawler myself. Please, Father, we're just here to help."

"...You're Orthodox?" the priest asked in some surprise. "The Alliance is godless sodomites, atheists, aliens," he muttered.

"Father, I was raised in the Russian Orthodox Church," Stasia answered levelly, ignoring words she had certainly heard before.

"The Russian Orthodox Church... Now there is a name I have not heard but whispered." He prepared to bless her, and Stasia, knowing well the forms, formed her hands in the shape of a cross, and kissed the hand of the priest when he blessed her. "You are not Russian, though."

"I am Tlingit, Father. Our people were evangelized by Russia, we are American indigenous."

"A Red Indian!" One of the well-dressed men in the crowd shouted. "Dear God, I saw a documentary on State Television about the Wildlife preserves in Wisconsin once! But, My God, she is Orthodox, and wears clothes!"

The priest turned sharply toward the man. "Stepan Stepanovich, this woman is a baptised Christian! The Reich spoke _lies_ about other humans!" He laughed broadly and stroked his beard. "Not only that, but I think she wants to stay in your hotel! Child, what is your name?"

" _Offizierstellvertreter_ Anastasia Héen, Father," she answered promptly, her back stiff but a grin now lighting up inside of herself. It had worked. And she was about to make the man who had said those words _very_ uncomfortable.

The priest smiled broadly. "Miss Héen, welcome to Saint Mark of Apraxin. Our town is humble, but we will be thankful for your aid. We have received no help from the central government at all, and the Gestapo officers fled two weeks ago to go surrender to the Britischers in the capitol. Is it so, child, that there is freedom for the Orthodox faith in the Alliance?"

"It is so, Father."

"God be praised! Stepan Stepanovich, show her officers and men to the finest rooms."

"My God, Father, please, the Reich, I shall lose my certificate of German lodging and I shall never get it back!" The man exploded into desperate action, running up to the Priest and bowing. "I cannot have a Red Indian and Aliens in a hotel approved for lodging by Aryans, it will ruin me forever! They will never let me get it back! My family has maintained that certificate for two generations!"

"Stepan, child," the Priest said with a cold chuckle and a glint in his eye. "God be praised, for the Reich is never coming back. _Let them in your Inn,_ or you will never have customers again." Then he looked to Stasia. "I am Father Aleksandar. Trust that tonight you will not be troubled, the men of our village have rifles now. We are now strong, and shall remain so, and greet you in Orthodox brotherhood."

That didn't necessarily actually make Stasia feel any better, considering what her mission was, but she bowed again. "Thank you, Father Aleksandar. We are glad to be in Saint Mark of Apraxin." As they walked to the hotel, men laughed at Stepan Stepanovich and cursed him, while he pretentiously held his back straight and rubbed the waxed ends of his mustache. He was not a popular man in the town.

* * *

The hotel was certainly sumptuous by local, rural standards, though it was no Ritz. Unsurprisingly, Stepan claimed that he had no food for preparing a breakfast, and with uniforms and arms, Stasia led her people to the waterfront cafes, some built on pilings over the water.

"Don't you have magic food that comes out of the air?" The short-order woman behind the counter asked wryly when they came in.

"Still prefer the real thing," Stasia answered, "and we don't have it here."

"Well, eat what you want, but follow the same limits as everyone else," she replied.

 _Limits._ Stasia looked up at the chalkboard. _Banitza-_ one slice per customer. Apple-one per customer. _Bob chorba -_ one bowl per customer. _Ribena chorba_ \- no limit. _Tarator_ \- one bowl per customer. _Gubena supa_ \- one bowl per customer. _Turshiya_ \- no limit. Grilled fish - no limit, whatever is caught. _Tsatsa_ \- no limit. Drinks: _Boza -_ one cup per customer. _Beer -_ one bottle per customer. Traditional coffee - one cup per customer. Chicory coffee - no limit.

There was nothing else on the menu. Most of her people were using their omnitools to translate as best as they could. "I'll take an apple, _Gubena supa, tsatsa,_ and coffee. My real cup, please."

"No _Banitza_?" It was a legitimate question, seeing as it was the only typical breakfast food actually on the menu.

"Save it for my comrades, they might not like many of the others," Stasia grinned. "As long as you get me the coffee." She paid for all of them, in Reichsmarks which were overprinted with the words ALLIED OCCUPATION AUTHORITY, OCCUPATION DOLLAR, and the Alliance seal. Electronic payment systems were nonfunctional and the Reich had encouraged the use of paper currency by subject races to avoid giving them large amounts of convenience technology, anyway.

The tables were rough-hewn wood, the chairs with more artistic flair but much the same, and the only open space big enough for them was at one long table where a woman clustered with four children, likely enough two sons and two daughters. She looked to be in her sixties, with massive corded muscles and stocky, thick arms and legs, a scarf tied up over her gray hair, but wearing practical fisher's overalls. "Do you mind if we sit, grandmother?" Stasia asked.

"What? Oh merciful God, it is not my table to say no." Her eyes were sharp and wide, matching those of her children. "You are Miss Héen, are you not?"

"Yes, that's right, who are you?" Stasia went to sit, and her food came clinking out, from the fried sprats that were tsatsa to the mushroom soup. The coffee came first.

"Gergena Kirilova Tambovna, Officer." She answered formally. "And these are my children. You said you would help us find more fish?"

"Yes, but it might take time. You fish?"

"I have a boat!" Gergena said proudly, though her face then fell. "For the past ten years I have worked it with my children, I am forty-five years old now and getting old, but when the Nazis shot my poor Anton, there was nothing else for us." She changed the subject quickly. "You are Anastasia, yes? They said you claimed to fish."

"I did," Anastasia agreed. "I had a trawler, the _Lillian S._ And that is my name. Of course, these days, I am in the Navy."

"So you are! Women could never serve in the Reich, not like it would matter to us." She glanced around, and lowered her voice. "My daughter Alexandra, she needs to learn to fish properly," she gestured to the eldest, who looked in the best health. "The old Gestapo commandant hired her as the file-clerk, and since the surrender, she has been out of work. Without her income, I can't hire a hand for the boat, she's been working it instead, but she's not tough enough."

Stasia pursed her lips over her sprats, one of the two who had dared to have some-Kel'dar unsurprisingly being the other. She felt a bit like it was abusing the trust involved, but they could make sure things worked out for Gergena Kirilova. "I can sail with you first and help, Gergena?"

Alexandra was blushing furiously at the questioning of her ability. Her mother grinned. "Don't worry, child, the Officer will set you right soon enough. Yes, I accept."

* * *

In trying to get a handle on the situation in the mining towns, it quickly became apparent that, in fact, Jun's claims had been perfectly correct. There were no food supplies reaching them. The relief forces under Peacham's control weren't even making an attempt to get through to the towns. And that was rapidly escalating the situation viz. the Bulgarian herding community's vulnerability to raids from the mining towns.

"Request communication with Brigadier Peacham, please. Do tell Colonel Fei'nur, and you can quote me, 'You were right, it will likely fall to you. Suggest planning accordingly'. At least the complete… confused mess was not _exploding_ , but… Zhen'var frowned visibly. "Divine save us from idiotic staff work. Let me know as soon as you have the Brigadier."

"Brigadier Peacham on your channel, Captain."

"Put him on, please." She still did not have a pleased expression on her face, even if most of the frown faded before the comms image shimmered into life.

"Captain, I was told that this was urgent?" Peacham looked more than a little surprised, but serious enough at his desk.

"The mining villages are cut off from food shipments with the ongoing unrest, Brigadier. If we do not get them some _very soon_ , we are going to be in a shooting war with these 'Rejuvenation Societies' when they go to _take_ it from the Bulgarian villages."

"They've made that decision themselves, Captain. Standing regulations do not allow us to place relief corps personnel under the power of armed militants," Peacham said. "The reality is they might easily kill anyone sent into their midst. Unless they submit to being disarmed, it's simply not an option."

"Are you forbidding me from making the effort myself, Brigadier?" Zhen'var's face had gone studiously blank, her voice flatly calm. "There _will_ be major intra-planetary conflict we _cannot_ contain with forces on hand if we do not solve this issue _now_. They will not disarm unless the Bulgarians do, and do not consent to be governed by them."

"If the consent of the governed mattered here, Captain, we wouldn't be playing gaoler for the entire planet waiting for the next round of overlords to take it over," Peacham replied grimly and with real vinegar in his voice. "Later today we do expect a private relief organisation to arrive, but they were scheduled to assist your health and wellness efforts in the Bulgarian herding villages in the Grunwald region. You can, by all means, devise a strategy to supply food to the mining towns but I certainly cannot permit regular relief corps personnel to directly place themselves under the power of the Rejuvenation Society paramilitaries."

"If they attack the villages, they will be under their power _anyhow_ , as _hostages_ , Brigadier. This _will_ boil over." She audibly sighed. "I understand the standing orders, Brigadier. We will come up with a strategy to delay the clash, if possible. That was all, Brigadier."

* * *

Stasia knew her fishing. Wearing her oilskins and greatcoat, she set nets and pulled them and diagnosed some broken hydraulics on the rigging gear. Respecting Gergena's authority on her boat, the CWO had turned the voyage into a bit of a commercial fishing clinic for her own people, going over the details of every step in working the boat, and catching up on maintenance as well. By the end of the second day, she was oily and looked a bit of a mess, but looked as happy as a clam and had thoroughly won over the tough old Gergena's children.

To keep them going, she got Spacer Robby Larkin in the security detachment to start making stews out of the stocks onboard and their own emergency rations, and cracked open her backpack to reveal neat vacuum-sealed packages of Cafe Bustelo, the cheap Cuban espresso blend of the supermarkets of her native Earth that she had used to sustain herself honestly when poor and working her turns on trawler and ferry. It was a familiar life she was at least fond of.

Alexandra proved as able as the rest of her family to adapt to the demands of the fishing trade, under Stasia's confident and friendly tutelage. It was nearly idyllic, if you liked hard work and honest food. Of course, that all obscured the reason they were really there, which was the discrete sensor pack that Ensign Oulata was running.

"Chief," he said as he approached with the sun setting. "I've localised the transmissions tonight to the Tamandor Bank. We're only fifteen klicks off, and it's a good ground too. Can we move there in the middle of the night?"

"Just a sec," Stasia answered, putting down her binoculars on the bridge rail and stepped into the bridge. "Gergena, can we make for the Tamandor Bank tonight?"

"Aye, we could, Stasia, it's good ground, but pretty crowded." A pause. "Well, you're helping enough. I won't ask questions."

Stasia's words caught in her throat. She was using this honest woman. And she knew it. "You have my word, as one fisherwoman to another," she finally said. "Your family will be safe and prosperous."

There was a moment of fraught tension. Gergena knew she was being used, knew there was a military objective. "Might be nice to have a Volkswagen, too," Gergena smiled wryly, and spun the helm over.

 _You'll get your Volkswagen._ Stasia swallowed. That wasn't the concern...

At sea you couldn't escape the smell of salt, and on a fishing trawler, you couldn't escape the smell of your catch. On a hard-bitten small family trawler like this, they fried up the introduced sprats to eat the moment they caught them. There were instant potatoes to go with them for breakfast, mashed into cakes with a little wheat, and onions to toss in the fryer with the sprats. They had _Boza_ and Stasia's Cafe Bustelo from a percolator, and enough seasick pills that the spacers who had never felt a salt-water boat's roll were able to enjoy it.

Stasia sat in the kitchen nook, crammed into the pads on top of storage boxes which formed half the seating at the u-shaped table. Gergena was next to her with big plates before them, both exhausted and hungry. Kel'dar had stood the night watch to let them get some rest, and the bedraggled looking Dilgar was eagerly eyeing a double portion of the tsatsa. Behind Stasia's back the chiller-compressor set looping cold glycol through lines in the fish holds was rumbling hard enough to give her a rough-hewn massage.

"It's almost dawn," Alexandra said, looking at the chronometer. "Just one more day, mother?"

"Just one more day," Gergena agreed. "Even with the competition at Tamandor it's rich enough ground we should be heading to home tonight. And it's closer in-shore."

"What's your space like, Anastasia?" Alexandra asked then.

"Oh, there's … A lot of work to do. Fighting Nazis, keeping fighter pilots from crashing into each other. I do more of the later than the former." A grin. "Really, there's a hundred Earths, a hundred galaxies. There's more space than you can imagine out there, and there are beautiful sights a thousand times grander than anything else."

"It would be wonderful…"

"We'll never afford that," Gergena said flatly, and flashed a look to Stasia, appealing to get her to stop talking about space.

Stasia smiled. "Well, looking up to the stars can be just as grand. And very useful to your navigation. Anyhow…" She re-filled her coffee. "I should get up-deck and check on my wayward Fahnrich." She shared a laugh with Gergena and clambered up a ladder to where Ensign Oulata was running the sensor rig.

The first rays of dawn were peeking above the horizon as she arrived. "Found anything?"

"Yeah, the morning broadcast definitely came from the bank, that group of ten trawlers over there."

"Ten." Stasia gritted her teeth. "Do we know _which one,_ ensign?"

"Not the slightest, Chief. Here, do you want to see the replay? I've got an infrared recording of them as the transmission was happening."

It took Stasia's practiced eye only a moment to realise that one of the trawlers was not like the others. It was not in the appearance, there was nothing out of the ordinary about that. It was in the way she was behaving. Unlike the other trawlers, which were following the rhythms of the sea, phosphorescent krill and the operations of setting and recovering nets, she had been holding station during the dawn broadcast, in such a position that she could bounce a signal off the moon-Stasia used her omnitool to quickly confirm the angles-and reach half the world.

Stasia smiled tightly. "That's the one. Locate her in the current group."

"Aye-aye, Chief."

Next, Stasia stepped past him and inside the currently unmanned pilothouse. She reached in, having learned a few to read the key words in Bulgarian already, and turned off the Iron Mike.

Next to her, Ensign Oulata collated the data and shot it to Fera'xero on the _Huáscar._ At a warning, Fera'xero had swung out of his quarters and moved to the primary science lab a few minutes before his shift started. Now he took the data, cross-validated, and used the uplink information from the transponder in the portable sensor to validate position relative to the _Huáscar,_ and then queried five spaceport beacons on the planet for the same time period, and finally the AIS for Gergena's trawler. At that point the mainframes handled the complicated mathematics to turn the _Huáscar's_ position, confirmed by five points on the planet, into the position of the trawler, measured by calculating the arc-length difference of only ten meters between the AIS transponder and the sensor cluster. It was enough.

At that point they knew which trawler they were looking for, and it only required regression of the AIS tracks to identify where she was _now._ Three minutes later, Ensign Oulata returned to Stasia's side, and visually pointed out the trawler, silhouetted in the rising sun, as their omnitools crosslinked and confirmed the position.

"Thank you, Ensign." Stasia adjusted her cross slightly. "Keep the Tambov family belowdecks, and get all of _us_ updecks with pulse rifles locked and charged."

Kel'dar came up to Stasia's side as she steered the ship. He took a pair of binoculars and looked out to the deck of their target trawler, where a group of figures in their own greatcoats were hastening about. It was direct line of sight, and for Kel'dar, that was enough.

"Chief, they're on to us! They're bringing up and readying heavy arms."

"Oh _Christ._ " Stasia reached over to the throttles and threw them all forward, and brought the wheel to starboard, slewing them hard in toward the other trawler as their engines whined. As they did, she could see them swing a heavy Reich pulse cannon onto a tripod mount on the foredeck they had just erected.

" _Huáscar_ this is Chief Héen our trawler is coming under attack by crew-served weapons on the target trawler, over."

"Squad open fire!" Firing from their port beam, nine pulse rifles opened fire in unison. Ensign Oulata joined in with a tenth, and then Ensign Kel'dar with an eleventh. Two men rigging the heavy Reich cannon collapsed from pulse fire, and the gun toppled onto the foredeck of the enemy trawler, as her team delivered fires from the port bridge wing and the port foredeck.

On the fantail of the Bulgarian trawler, the lion flag on green fluttered up the mast, and a sharp, crackling split of light filled the dawn's murk. A mortar bomb rose and descended, detonating as it hit the water twenty meters off the Tambov trawler in a tremendous flare of light and plasma. The bridge windows blew out around her.

Stasia had ducked at the flash and brought her arm up to cover her face, and it avoided any serious fragments tearing into her, the massive greatcoat covering her from most of the glass. She blinked her eyes open, and swung harder to starboard, keeping the firing lines open to the enemy trawler as sporadic rifle fire slammed into the deckhouse around her, starting fires in the paint.

" _Huáscar, WE ARE TAKING FIRES, PLASMA MORTAR AND RIFLE."_ Stasia screamed into her omnitool's general direction, spinning back in to port to narrow their profile. Another mortar round split the dawn's light, and Stasia felt the heat on her right cheek. With the windows already gone, she didn't flinch.

"Chief Héen, this is Commander Saumarez, I have Lieutenant Seldayiv ready to beam down with a scratch team in full rig. But we need an open spot on the enemy deck or they'll be cut to pieces when they beam in. Can you create one?"

Stasia had always prided herself on her ability at small craft handling. "Sure. Beam them at my mark."

"Linking you to the transporter room now," Elia replied.

"Transporter Chief, stand by at my mark," Stasia shouted. She threw the levers that would adjust the intermix ratio on the engines, and with a scream of power the engines overreved. The moment they did, she spun back harder to port.

On the bow of the enemy trawler, a fresh group of men were making an effort to rig the heavy pulse cannon again. As they did, Kel'dar rose and, where the vibrations and rolling in the waves made accurate shooting almost impossible, one of the Bulgarians froze and toppled from an abrupt telepathic interruption of his conscious bodily control courtesy of the Mha'dorn officer. It was enough to collapse the second effort to bring into action a weapon that might have been decisive.

"Team, shift to starboard and _brace yourselves_!" Stasia weared the trawler on the port quarter of the Bulgarian. As she swung up alongside with her engines surging, the helm was spun back sharply, the rudder bucked in the propwash, and the trawler lurched back to starboard. Slamming her old-tyre rub-guards into the matching equivalents on her rival, the two vessels made contact in a surge of sea and spray.

"Fire until you see the glow!" Stasia shouted, and then: "Beam 'em down!" The impact had strewn people down onto the deck of the pirate broadcaster. A moment later Daria flashed into view with a reinforced squad of twelve _Huáscarenos._ Swinging her rifle up she dropped one, two, three of the IARO paramilitaries on the deck with a preternaturally accurate aim. The squad charged forward and fanned out in elements into the deckhouse.

Stasia throttled back down hard, seeing smoke rolling off the decks aft. She grabbed the bullhorn still tucked in place on the bridge. "All hands, man your fire extinguishers and axes! Damage control on the double!"

* * *

The news that they had successfully secured the pirate broadcast trawler and didn't have any serious casualties brought a palpable relief of tension to the bridge of the _Huáscar._ Elia, who had decided on the course of the battle, looked particularly relieved.

"Well done, Commander. I will take the deck." Zhen'var spoke from where she'd burst onto the bridge about thirty seconds into the action. " _Very_ quick thinking. That was most of the QRF we had left, was it not?"

"It wasn't even one," Elia replied. "I just had a list of people who had been in past QRFs but were not currently assigned. Captain."

"You exceed my already-high expectations, Commander Saumarez. I expect, and worry, we will have more need of such. If you think it possible, anything we can spare, kept ready for the call, may be wise."

"Thank you, Captain," Elia replied. "I greatly appreciate the confidence you show in me."

"It is deserved. I believe the situation is delicate enough to start to hold some fighters on Quick Reaction Alert, or even a CAP, as part of the QRF."

"Understood. Bringing the ship to Condition Yellow, MC YOKE." Not modified ZEBRA, it would still allow passage through the ship, so a more relaxed posture than their typical Code Yellow, but they were unquestionably alerting everyone that combat could be considered imminent, and as part of it, an eight-fighter, two-runabout CAP would be authorised, with four more fighters on QRA.

"Oh, and Commander? Though it needs not be explicitly said, I expect a _planetary_ threat, possibly using hugging tactics with friendly units." Zhen'var already was feeling the stress of this assignment, and she'd not yet been on station very long _either_.

"Understood, Captain. However, we have another issue. It's quite likely that IARO paramilitaries will threaten the owners and crew of the trawler that assisted us. Chief Héen is requesting a garrison for St. Mark of Apraxin to protect them."

Zhen'var, for a moment, looked like she wanted to plant her face into her hands, before rallying and offering; "Of course. That is perfectly logical. You can liaise with Colonel Fei'nur to find one between whom-ever we have left with _any_ training."

"We'll need to pull a detachment off of her force to have anyone capable of securing St. Mark, Captain," Elia replied bluntly. "But we don't have any choice or our credibility is gone."

"Do it. If the locals cannot trust us, you are right, we will have nothing left in their eyes. We are being badly overstretched, and our status reports to higher command have garnered no response. We will make do, somehow."

* * *

The next day, the initial private response teams from the Humanitarians Without Borders umbrella group had set up and were already dispensing aid in villages near the frontier line between the Bulgarian and Japanese townships. Nah'dur was holding a surgery clinic in the town of Norovno, cheerfully doing bone marrow transplants on a couple of children with leukemia in a prefabricated surgical ward.

She'd already spoken with the leaders of the HWB group, and though they seemed a bit oblivious, were going to move into the Japanese territories soon. Her own plan had been to start mass replication of simple, nutritious rations on the _Huáscar_ and just beam them down into the Japanese towns, but there were millions of Japanese on the planet and a huge backlog.

Some members of the Rejuvenation Society had already tired of waiting, and had pulled out to make attacks on the food convoys now moving to the Bulgarian towns. They were too far out and with unreliable comms, and proceeded with their attacks. The first inkling Nah'dur had of it all was the sound of shots being fired and screams outside. The nurses and corpsmen around her visibly started, a couple of the junior ones looked for the exit to the tent.

"Keep working," Nah'dur said calmly. "We'll be done in another five minutes." She didn't even look up from what she was doing. The shooting quickly died off anyway, replaced by the barking of orders in a tongue that Nah'dur was familiar with, for all the wrong reasons.

"Aalmost…" She worked through her procedures methodically, still ignoring the sounds, right up until the moment that a Japanese in a hachimaki and overhauls burst into the operating theatre holding a Reich standard pulse rifle.

"Out! Immediately! You are hostages!"

"I'm busy," Nah'dur replied in perfect Japanese, and went on to the next procedure. "Don't listen to the honourable soldier," she added, letting the universal translator handle that as she instructed her people. "Honourable soldier, it is necessary for me to finish this surgery, or else the patient shall die."

"A Bulgaria…"

"A child," Nah'dur cut him off, still not looking up. "And quite possibly Japanese," she sniffed under her mask. "You can't tell, not with all of these tubes and masks. Honourable soldier, leave, I must finish the surgery. Please. It would dishonour your service otherwise."

The man had a silent, inscrutable expression for a moment, and then lowered the rifle and stepped out. Nah'dur calmly continued her surgery. As she had worked, she had quietly clicked on the broadcast feed on her omnitool.

When she finished the procedure, she looked up from her patient to her staff. "Stay here and stabilise the patient."

"Surgeon-Commander?"

"I need to go somewhere," she answered, and instead of going out through the entrance, took a scalpel and cut herself a new exit out of the back of the surgical tent.


	9. Episode 2 Act 3

**Act 3**

Outside of the medical tents, the leaders of the Rejuvenation Society company had forced all the aid workers to kneel, keeping them well-covered with guns as they tied them up. It was being broadcast live by a simple hand-held recording camera and a primitive antenna rig.

"Alliance, know that we are strong and the age in which the Bulgarians could oppressed us with the encouragement of the Gestapo and complete impunity is long gone!"

"We will no longer tolerate being starved into submission. We will fight for our livelihoods, our towns and mines, the blood of our ancestors and their hallowed souls. The independence and sovereignty of all Japanese-occupied territory and sufficient German lands for food self-sufficiency on the surface of Drachenfeldt is an absolute requirement, or else we must take extreme measures to insure our independence!"

Behind the group, a single Dilgar in surgical scrubs very quietly circled through the town. Her omnitool was still broadcasting. The Rejuvenation Society paramilitaries were no professional troops, by any measure.

There was only one guard on the rear of the motor pool of Technicals that the Rejuvenation Society paramilitaries had arrived in, and he was more interested in listening to his commander's speech than doing his duty. Rather than risk alerting them, Nah'dur crept up with one of her scalpels. _That_ was over a moment later, for though usually too delicate for such a use, it was perfect for severing everything important that was exposed in the human neck. Dilgar at least had a line of cartilage covering the really important parts…

Nah'dur looked down at the body and spreading blood with a perfect sense of clinical detachment. She hadn't actually intentionally killed anyone before, it was a surprisingly unproblematic experience. Or perhaps not surprisingly at all. Ahead of her, there was one ore-hauling truck with the right orientation, broadside to the plaza of the town, which was a small ore-hauling truck-big by the standards of road trucks-and fitted with a massive twin anti-aircraft pulse cannon.

 _That will do._ She clambered up the side and up-checked the gun with the practice of an automaton. Fei'nur had been utterly determined to make sure she and her sisters were never unready. It was only when she kicked the mount traverse and swung it around to bear on the main body of the Rejuvenation Society troops that they realised precisely what had happened.

"Just for future reference, Dilgar Surgeon-Commanders don't swear the Hippocratic Oath," Nah'dur said with a tight grin, purely for her own benefit. The gun had opened up before she had finished the sentence.

The shock and confusion of the Rejuvenation Society troops was completed when a volley of pulse rifle fire slammed into their flank, a scratch response team assembled from Fei'nur's headquarters platoon and led by her personally in frantic response to Nah'dur's open comms line. She had to rely on the universal translator, her voice cracking out over the speakers of her armour; _"_ _Surrender or die!"_

Leaning into the harness of her gun, Nah'dur stitched her away across the Rejuvenation Society positions, driving them back whenever they threatened an attack which might imperil the hostages, hugging the ground over which her pulse bolts flew. The gun was powerful enough to simply blow straight through a lot of cover, and they'd already decimated the main body.

Sweeping forward, Marines took up positions, leapfrogging forward through the town, clearing pockets of resistance and taking up positions around the central common. Paramilitaries toppled like tenpins in the heavy fire, not well trained enough to take effective cover.

It was over-operationally, if not in fact. Some of the Japanese proved quite unwilling to surrender, but for the most part they did. Their discipline and organisation had collapsed quickly under the shock of the abrupt attack and the surprise of the quick reinforcements. They were armed miners, not professional soldiers. Fei'nur's Marines had quickly earned their salt in the attack.

Nah'dur checked her fire to avoid hitting any of them. She looked around, blinking widely, like it was only now dawning on her what she'd just done.

"Secure the area!" The Colonel waited long enough to ensure her people had the situation under control, before she'd step closer to the technical Nah'dur had captured, her expression softening. "Come down from there, Nah." She murmured, once close enough to let her speak directly without anyone else hearing.

Nah'dur jerked at hearing only her personal name, with her eyes widening, clambered down from the side of the truck to face Fei'nur. "Colo… Fei?" She asked, softly.

Fishing into her combat rig, Fei'nur brought up a small flask. "Drink, one swig, no more." Her voice was still quietly kind, as she stepped closer, and clapped a hand on Nah'dur's shoulder. "The first time's always the hardest. You did _wonderfully_ , Nah. First combat badge _and_ with a pin for you, I'd say."

The moment she drank, Nah'dur knew it was Ish'la'fran. Her eyes and mouth shook from the hearty swig. Holding the flask until her hands steadied, she handed it back to Fei'nur.

"Thank you, Fei," she answered now, looking up with wide eyes. "I crept up close to the vehicle guard and took him with a scalpel. That was the hard part."

"Your mother always had some in her desk, just in case. She'd be proud of you. You cannot ask others to take life if you aren't willing to do it yourself. Spilling blood is our calling as soldiers, and you did what you had to, to save the lives of those hostages." The arm around her pulled the young doctor into a quick hug. "Try and stay close tonight, like when you were younger. It should help you sleep, Nah."

"I will, Fei. Thank you." She squeezed back in the hug, and then drew back. "I should check up on my patient. She was in surgery when they burst in, I told them to leave - they did, but it was still very crude."

"Of course, Surgeon-Commander." Fei'nur gave her a last smile as her mask of command slipped back onto her face, muttering as she turned away, "I think I am starting to _hate_ this planet..."

* * *

Perhaps the only positive thing about the aftermath of the fight at Norovno was that when Zhen'var tried communicating with the Rejuvenation Society, they answered over the comm channels with _alacrity._ The Japanese man who appeared on the screen even bowed deeply. "Captain Zhen'var, I am Takahashi Akinari, of the coordinating committee of the Rejuvenation Society, and I wish to extend my personal apology for the incident at Norovno. Our leadership did not sanction Shigeru's actions, his heart was wild and could not be controlled."

"It was _gekokujō_ , then?" Zhen'var was _not_ well pleased after the report, but she would drill down to deatils, and accept the apology, if she was satisfied.

Mr. Takahashi inclined his head. "You understand our people. Yes, it was so. Again, I am very sorry." He once more bowed. "We will talk with the Bulgarians, aboard the _Huáscar_. We will not make terms first. But we must have food."

"Your apology is accepted, sir. I have provided food to Yatsukawa, Kenyako, Renbatsu, Narakonai, Shiragawa and Kenkanai. We are working as quickly as we can to clear the backlog of starvation, Mister Takahashi. We are beaming down rations as quickly as we can, and if we have your _word_ the aid workers will be safe, they will proceed under escort into your claimed territories. I know it is slower than we both wish, but we are making our best possible effort to provide food."

He nodded stiffly. "You have my word. We will protect any who come to distribute food, or medicines."

"Then you have mine that I shall consider myself bound by obligation to keep the peace, and protect and succour non-combatants and those who do not actively use their arms." She was somewhat stepping into dangerous ground, _but_ her habit of going far beyond her orders had not changed.

"You honour us, Captain. We will await further communication" The transmission blinked off.

* * *

Having used the computer to locate her operations officer, Captain Zhen'var paused at the door to the wardroom, knocking gently on the frame. "Permission for the Captain to enter?" It was, after all, the wardroom of the _officers_ \- and in the old navy traditions, Zhen'var considered it a privilege, not a right, to enter.

"Come in, Captain! Permission granted!" A youthful Dilgar Ensign with the incredible colouration of the Valongar had the honours of greeting her, after Elia had given her permission herself as the ranking officer in the wardroom. Ensign Aur'ma, the islander woman from the Earth Dilgar colony-whose adoptive mother had something of a history with the Varmas.

"Good afternoon, Ensign. Settling in well? Your first cruise after the academy back on Tira, is it not?" Zhen'var smiled as she went to fill a mug with tea from the replicator, along with a small plate of snacks.

"Oh, I'm very well settled, Captain. Yes, it is." She surged with pride. "I'm very thankful to be able to follow my elder sister to the same ship. Is Ka'var well?"

"She is, though too long in zero-gee has taken a toll, I fear. Her days charging into in harms way are done, hopefully; when the _Wrath_ returns from this galaxy to Rohric, I do not believe mother will serve again. That will help. At any rate, Lieutenant Seldayiv rates your skill highly for one so fresh to the service. Keep up the good work, Ensign. I fear I must speak to Commander Saumarez."

"Of course, Captain," she turned back to her snack of satay.

Elia was smiling, nursing a cup of rooibos tisane. "So, what do we need to talk about, Captain?"

"Mha'dorn business, I _think_. The Bulgarians we took. I do not think they were just planning to broadcast incitement, do you?" She sipped at her always-present tea, lips pursed as she popped a morsel of Chicken 65 into her mouth.

"Hmm… Terrorism, genocide, probably a few other things, yes," Elia said blackly. "You want me to interrogate them, don't you?"

"No. I want to interrogate them. I just want you to stand by for it. I shall not turn you into an intelligence woman, unless you ever want to be. I _think_ there is an exception for imminent terrorist attacks, the 'ticking bomb' clause, is that correct?"

"Correct. Earth Alliance law had something else, though of course Marsies would do things like fantasize about the suicide bombing they were about to commit to make Earth-born telepaths report it and then get in trouble when it wasn't real." She looked down into her cup, not wanting to dwell on the situation back home, but unable to ignore it, either. That she was performing her duties in such an exemplary fashion anyway was a testament to her discipline.

"If there's anything I can do for you, let me know? You are holding up better than I would, Commander." _Look at me! After all, I turned myself into a Dilgar, pretty sure most people say that is the opposite of 'holding up'_.

Elia cracked a massive grin. _In this freaking multiverse, Zhen, you're one of the sanest people around._ The willingness to _speak_ to a mundane like that was unfathomable back home. But here with her Captain and friend she'd gotten comfortable enough for it. "I'll work with Daria. Her powers give an extra insight that would make us a good team for this."

 _Have I told you recently how cool it is you can do that, Elia?_ Zhen'var's face broke into a small grin. Ever since the first time her friend had _done_ that projecting into her head, she'd found it fascinatingly _awesome_.

 _Oh, just a few times,_ Elia winked and laughed. "Thank you for taking my mind off everything," she added verbally, and leaned back. The impulse to communicate with a mundane through vocal chords was still strong after years of socialization under the law.

"What are friends for, Commander? Whenever is convenient for the two of you, then. You both will be under more strain than I."

"Understood. We'll make the call together. Now, before you eat all of it… What are you eating, and can I try some?"

"Snack food. Chicken 65. And no, I do not know where the name came from. As spicy as anything else from where I grew up, so be careful!" She offered her plate, comfortable and smiling amongst her officers.

Having finished that, she was heading towards the Laboratory section aboard - she had a meeting with her science officer, and a knotty problem she thought he could rather solve, as she pressed the annunciator button near the door - not wishing to interrupt anything extremely delicate by using the override.

A minute later the door opened, revealing the Quarian, who came to attention. "Captain. How may I be of assistance?" Fera'xero showed the customary Quarian deference to the concept of a _Captain,_ distinct from the rank, but was clearly immensely proud of the _Huáscar_ 's labs from the few tours she had been given by him so far.

"I was wishing to speak with you, Commander, about whether you had any ideas about locating some of the masses of heavy weapons looted by the two groups on the surface that seem bound and determined to start a war with each other?" She glanced about with a look of approval - he _did_ manage the labs well, and with how she'd unleashed her crews' initiative, she was expecting much from everyone… especially how Quarian and Dilgar views on engineering seemed to build off each other in an almost exponential way.

"Weapons storage is an interesting dispersion problem. Certain areas will not be used for it, because it would be detectable in different ways. It is possible to radically limit the surface area of the planet which is being employed - but five percent of the surface is still impossible to search, say, from orbit." he stepped over to a holotank and activated it, making the surface swell. "Let's look at the mines first, there's anecdotal evidence there's major stockpiles there from the intelligence reports."

He zoomed in further, until he resolved the architecture around a heading shaft. "Observe the size of the tailings, the inclination of the shaft, and the mine equipment around it. That's what I have to work with, as well as the location of say, Grunwald 9. I could develop a genetic algorithm which would reduce through the variables to select for mine-shafts with satellite images which indicate horizontal head approaches and with tailings and equipment large enough to indicate both linear length and physical diameter sufficient for the military heavy arms we are searching for. Then probe-drones could be sent to orbit the sites at night to look for gravitic anomalies in the tunnels."

"I will admit only _mostly_ understanding that, Commander, but I trust your abilities. Coordinate with Operations to get the drones and your needed sensor time. Is there anything else you will need?"

"Reserved mainframe time, twice the usual allotment for Science. This algorithm is very intensive with the number of variables we are working, Captain."

"I will approve the request, the Chiefs should have some idea what runtime we can delay to give you the resources, Commander." Zhen'var was already thinking about ways _she_ could have arranged it, before she forced herself to stop. "Let the watch-standers know what you need, you should have it."

* * *

Elia had gotten used to the idea that telepathy for military purposes was a side gig she would never quite escape. She was less sure about Lieutenant Seldayiv and the powers she had; they were something that Elia still grappled to put into her own frame of reference as much as she could.

The two women met in the little security office in front of the brig. Crewers were already joking after the steady succession of events lately that it was the more utilized part of the ship. Elia thought that if they managed to maintain such an enviable record it would be well worthwhile. "I know this is something of a 'bum job'," Elia offered to the Dorei woman.

"No problem. I'm happy to help, and it is important before my Goddess, you know," she explained. "Staying in tactical required considerable prayer for me, actually."

"I can imagine. It isn't a usual profession, direct weapons fire, for your practice, is it?"

"Certainly, but that makes it all the more important to have someone who is morally grounded in the role," Daria replied. "That, in the end, is why I stayed with my career. As long as the Arms of the Alliance work toward morality, toward the liberation and salvation of peoples, there is nothing wrong with our stand."

"I wish I had such certainty about anything except for my family and my friendship with Zhen'var," Elia replied.

"By family you mean Psi Corps, don't you?"

"Mother and Father and all that implies," Elia agreed readily. "And of course the Mha'dorn, the cousins I'm staying with," she added with, a smile on her lips.

Daria got herself some seemai strips from the replicator, thinking about that. "You know, there's a lot of propaganda in the Alliance these days about the Corps, but they all seemed reasonable when they were here, so I'm not sure of what to think about it."

Elia sighed. "It's all lies, and I feel like I'm constantly having to address it. The laws were passed by the mundanes, they ordered us to enforce them, they are the ones who produce the propaganda which demonizes us even at the same time we are required to send our best to enforce _their_ laws, which burns them out and leads them to die by forty. They're turning against us. Straight up the genocide ladder."

"I'm sorry, Elia."

"I accept the apology in a way I wouldn't from a mundane," Elia replied. "The apology for even bringing up that slander. We are a nation, and the Earth Alliance can annihilate us at will." She rubbed her forehead and grimaced. "Speaking of dead at forty, I need to replicate Nah'dur's brain protectant."

"Understood. Another minute?"

"Yeah," Elia agreed, as she punched in her prescription code. "I've been thinking about it, and I will take the lead in talking with them. They may just not respond to an alien. To be blunt."

"You're probably right. I'll listen for trouble, then?"

"That would be the idea, yes." As Elia replied, the drug she had the prescription for was replicated in front of her and she used the single-shot applicator. Strangely enough, she'd barely ever felt safer than she did being Nah'dur's guinea pig for drugs to help telepaths. She just had the intense conviction that anything the woman made would be beneficial, or at least not hurt her.

"Nah'dur's something else for a Doctor, isn't she?"

"We telepaths believe pretty strongly that blood runs in families, I don't think it's a coincidence at all," Elia replied.

" _Dur,_ you mean?" Daria looked sharp.

"Yes. She's a genius."

"Most people wouldn't want a relative of Jha'dur to operate on them, genius or not."

"Oh come on, Daria," Elia smiled wryly. "The kid's just a big ball of cheerfulness. Whatever relation to Jha'dur she has is hardly important. We both know that."

"You are right. The Goddess would never have it any other way. Let's do this, Commander."

Elia nodded tightly. "Yeah, let's." She keyed open the hatch and stepped forward, the Dorei woman following close behind. Inside was the group of Bulgarian nationalists they had seized from the trawler.

One of them glared up sharply at them as they entered. Elia had always fancied herself rather clearly Caucasian, from an old Norman French noble family, but her blood had tended toward some of southern Europe thanks to the marriages over the centuries, and she did have curly hair.

The man before her, dressed in tattered camo and with five days growth of a beard around his mustache, looking about third and wiry muscled, assumed something else. " _Zhid_?" He spat. "Wiping out your kind was the only good thing the Nazis ever did."

For a moment Elia considered letting the man continue his assumption, but she realised from the sense of him that he was already negatively inclined toward Daria and she didn't want him to clam up. " _Unfortunately,_ no, I'm not Jewish. They have some of the tightest community in the Corps, so I'm rather envious. In fact, I think I'm one of about five Channel Islanders in the entire Corps. My name is Elia de Saumarez and the last time I recall, I am considered an Aryan under the Reich Blood Purity Laws."

"Your family might have the heritage, but a Gauleiter would never let his son marry you, anymore than a Bulgar!" he laughed bitterly. "What else was I supposed to assume, when they make you wear those black gloves like your own Alliance's version of the mark of the Jew?"

Daria shivered from the sheer intensity of the virulent hatred. She had been prepared for it, though. The Nazis milked the spectre of "the Jew" to keep all the surviving subject races of Earth united in fear and hate of the ultimate boogeyman, the mysterious, cunning, supernatural and demonic "Jew" that had been the subject of hundreds of years of sophisticated propaganda.

"Boyan, you moron, why would you think the gloves mean she's a Jew? Everyone knows Jews have big hook noses!" A bearded man in the back laughed at the first, and they all roared at their compatriot, who turned red as he glared at Elia. "Hey pretty lady," he added, "talk to me, Mladen, I'm not afraid of an Englishwoman."

"Norman French, more like," Elia answered, her face pale and her body stiff. It was the only way to get by the undressing she was receiving in Mladen's mind. "You gentlemen are in a lot of trouble. You were inciting massacre and violating the orders of the military governor by broadcasting propaganda illegally."

"I'm not worried," he laughed. "We'll drive you from the planet and have plenty of hostages to get us back with. The Bulgarian people will never stand to be slaves of a foreign power again. You don't have the strength to hold every world of the Reich, the Nemski will fight to the death before they let you marry their daughters to aliens and Jews. You don't have enough troops to hold them all. And if you give us our freedom, we'll send tough guys, Bulgarian freedom fighters, to help you crush the Nemski, take their god-cursed scalps! I'd say this is your last chance to negotiate, Alliancer. We're not afraid of your prisons, you _need_ us."

As he had spoken, Daria focused on their minds, taking advantage of their passion to look through the weakened barriers, toward the information they sought to hide. She was overcome with visions of violence. A shaven-headed man in a beret, leading troops. Captured Nazi tanks firing into buildings. Particle cannon were whining, plasma mortars exploding in great flashes, and men in camo walking into battle as they crossed themselves and exchanged kisses on the cheeks. The green Lion flag was flying… Over the old Gauleiter's palace, and the city was burning. Church bells were ringing, and she can hear prayers on lips. _Our Time is Come_! It came from a million thoughts, a million minds.

She did not nod, she simply glyphed it with her own powers to Elia: _A rising is coming on._

 _Understood._ Elia smiled ever-so-politely to the men in front of her. "I will relay your words to the Captain, thank you."

They both beat their retreat from the intense mental confines of the close presence of this rough-hewn, racist men. "Goddess," Daria murmured. "It is coming, very soon, they expect it very soon, Elia."

"The 22nd of September in the local calendar would be the anniversary of the declaration of Bulgarian independence," Elia replied, referencing her omnitool.

"Sooner. It doesn't seem nationalist. There was praying," Daria answered insistently.

"Uhh… Well, it is an urgent solution." She steeled herself. "PO Jameison, please bring the man named Mladen to a separate room."

"Aye-aye Sir," the security lead answered, and took two of his sailors under her arms to do the move inside the brig. He returned a moment later, indicating he was finished.

Tensing herself, Elia went back to the room. When she returned a few minutes later, she was sweaty and pale. "Captain, this is Commander Saumarez," she barked into her omnitool immediately. "It's happening, God, it's happening. Not Bulgarian National Independence Day. It's set for the _Elevation of the Holy Cross_ \- September 14th. _Tomorrow,_ Captain, we've got to warn the garrison!"

* * *

Peacham answered the emergency call with a faintly tired voice, though there was no indication of irritation in it. "Captain Zhen'var, we appear to have an emergency. What is it?"

Zhen'var's voice was urgent, far flatter than normal. "Engage your Plan White _immediately_ , brigadier. A wide-scale rising by the Bulgarian radicals is _imminent -_ for the Elevation of the Holy Cross, _tomorrow!"_ There was the background sounds of the Condition Yellow klaxons sounding as the ship shifted to a higher alert state.

"A rising by the IARO?" Peacham's bleary voice snapped into alertness. "The Elevation of the Holy Cross starts in just a few hours, technically. We have very little time. God… We'll have to call the outlying units of the brigade in as fast as we can to avoid having them cut off and give us enough strength to hold the capitol."

"It may trigger the attack once you do, Brigadier. Colonel Fei'nur has been alerted, but I have no further ground units available to assist yourself. I am preparing my wing for close-air-support duties, and my batteries for bombardment. The Navy is at your disposal in resisting this assault, but what little I have gleaned indicates the IARO is both well armed and confident." _If the divine is kind, it will be enough._

"We will make all possible preparations, Captain. Thank you. The British Army will, as usual, hold."

To Zhen'var, and where she had grown up, it was a matter of poor taste to talk about the British Army and holding against risings, though she held her tongue, and gave a single sharp nod. "We stand ready to assist, Brigadier." _Now we need to avoid a second rising at the same time._

* * *

What followed was the utmost testament to the cunning and brilliance of the rebel and the insurgent when staging a rising against an occupying power. Meticulous subterfuge was pitted against all the technology of the Alliance and its friends. Buses had their windows painted over with scenes of people inside and translucent paint for driving at night. Railway cars on the ore railway had been brought to the spaceport with tanks hidden under cardboard gondolas. Bombs were placed in the sewers.

When the hour came, cars piled full of armed fighters drove through the streets flying green Lion flags. Tanks began to form up and roll from the railway depots by the spaceport and industrial sektors. And power armour directly attacked the barracks of the brigade in the city.

The last one was what caused the dying. The IARO was a disciplined terrorist organisation which had invested real effort into training over the past weeks with the equipment, and knew some of it from past experience with looted examples. They were attacking an enemy unprepared for their assault, which had settled into the regular routine of a peaceful occupation.

The British troops had sensors and autonomous vehicles patrolling around their barracks', but the level of warning they provided in an urban area was insufficient against an abrupt, all-out storm assault by power armour. Rockets and close-range plasma cannon blew through local shields and collapsed walls, while homing missiles destroyed vehicles while they were still warming up. The night was filled with flashes of plasma, particle and disruptor fire and short bursts of explosions.

As the attacks by the power armour developed, men rushed forward with dump trucks to critical positions in the city, dumping their loads across the thoroughfares. Box trucks for delivering to businesses followed, swinging around behind them. Their boxes had been cut by welding torches and then repainted, so that when the hour came, a couple of one-minute cuts allowed the fighters showing up to man the positions to throw the entire structure off, revealing a heavy support particle repeater mounted to the bed and facing along the gravel piles, to which shovels quickly integrated the truck boxes for further protection. The batteries of fuel cell-electric vehicles were tapped and rigged to spools of razor wire used for sheep ranch fencing to produce electrified stop barriers.

The sound of honking horns and ringing church bells filled the city as IARO men used the 'net to coordinate crowds of supporters who were unwilling to mobilise as paramilitaries to get in their cars and drive into the streets of the city, honking their horns in unison to the sound of the national anthem.

All of this in fact hardly hurt the British. The Army of the Stellar Union was superb and even when poorly led, the men from Captain rank down to the sergeants and the privates themselves could quickly organise. They piled from their barracks back into defensive positions around their motor pools and began to bring them up, dragging the wounded back and establishing field stations if the main clinic or hospital on post was burning. Heavy energy fire smashed into groups of Bulgarian power armour: The men inside those suits were _not_ SS, by any measure, they were coming on like they were invincible in the suits, and their initial wild rush had been successful, but their tactics consisted of just that, a wild rush to charge the enemy and overwhelm them, and their small unit tactics were essentially primitive.

From the moment the British troops had some kind of semblance of order, they opened up on the power armour formations, improvised sotnias led by officers whose experience was usually a college degree and an ability to read German and thus Wehrmacht field manuals. They flanked the sotnias and delivered precision fires, calling in drones from launch points that were not under direct fire. Leaders were identified and terminated with homing missiles as most of the Bulgarians misused their defensive masking systems from inexperience.

The attacks were failing, rapidly and decisively. The British Army, its usual self, was consolidating, methodically pushing back, and destroying its attackers. However, the IARO leadership had expected as much. The Power Armour attacks, while flashy and impressive, were just there to keep the British disorganised while they brought the Panzers up, driving in columns for the Gauleiter's palace. This was a coup d'etat, and their target was the Brigadier and the Bulgarian National Council. The abrupt shock of heavy armour charging down the streets followed by trucks loaded with fighters to reinforce the attacks quickly brought the situation to a crisis.

By that time, the _Huáscar_ was at relaxed general quarters, just like they had discussed before the mission had begun. Zhen'var and her department heads were on the bridge, monitoring the fighting on the surface, when the request came in.

"Major Harraway on the emergency comms line, Captain," Lieutenant Tor'jar reported.

"Major Harroway, this is _Huáscar_ Actual. Go ahead." Her voice was clipped as she could hear her comms section monitoring the situation on the ground - a worsening situation, by the shift in tone she could hear in the background.

"Captain, the Brigadier assesses that we need immediate reinforcements. Battalions of panzers are moving into the city centre and our outer patrols are being hard pressed by them. Considerable numbers of infantry fighters are with them. We need the full strength of your battalion, if possible."

"Stand by, Major. The Colonel will deploy what she is able." Zhen'var resisted the urge to growl - while she had _expected_ this to happen, she had hoped it would not. "Get me Colonel Fei'nur. Her usual pessimism will have led her to plan for this, at least…"

"Colonel Fei'nur, on your channel, Captain."

"Colonel, this is the Captain. The British urgently need everything you can spare in the capital, the enemy is making a push with heavy armour for the centre of government and there are doubts our forces can hold."

There was a moment of dead air, before the older Dilgar woman's voice came back. "Understood. I will have the bulk of my forces moving shortly. I intend to liaise with Operations to provide me reconnaissance and keep up speed. If you have no objections, I should be about it, Captain."

"I do not, Colonel. Let your strike find the mark. _Huáscar_ Actual, out."

* * *

There was a disciplined process to shift troops halfway around the planet. The personnel transporters would shift the troops with their light arms, and the cargo transporters would handle the heavy equipment inside of the prepared defensive positions, from whence it could be quickly re-crewed.

The troops were moved _en masse,_ for they needed coordination and coherency to their formations to survive in the midst of heavy urban combat. Positions near combat, but outside of it, were chosen, where Fei'nur's battalion could pinch one of the flanks of the IARO armoured advance. And then, ready, with their guns pointed out, they flashed from the mining ranges into the midst of the capitol, the transporters cycling four platoons a minute.

It was a new evolution for Fei'nur, but one that she had forced herself through, again and again on the holodeck, until she felt she had a firm grasp upon it - though she had not been expecting to use it again so _soon_.

There was a burst of light, and there they were again, facing their enemies. Fortunately that was only metaphorical, though the transport did entail for providing covering fire the moment they arrived with all of their small arms, while the mortars and support weapons were set up and missile teams deployed, and this was done despite the lack of an obvious threat. It was part of doctrine, and no chances were being taken as the rest of the troops beamed in and they nervously awaited the impending arrival of their heavy equipment, the sixteen light tanks and ten artillery pieces which would make this affair somewhat more fair… For them.

Fei'nur watched through her HUD the icons that were her command as they spread out to take their positions, securing the transport zone for the heavy equipment to follow. She didn't give orders, not yet. The situation was, for now, still firmly in the book she'd tried to drill into her lieutenants.

They rushed forward and took up positions to cover the arrival of the vehicles as the rest of the troops continued to beam-in… Ten minutes to complete the entirety of the battalion re-position, after the first seven, the tanks began to arrive, and the artillery pieces as well. That was the same time when the warning went out.

"Panzers, coming in!"

One of her Captains was already on that heading, the Linzstrasse: "Hunter-Killer teams, take cover in defilade!"

Fei'nur gave soft orders - her subordinates, she allowed initiative, but she herself kept control of coordinating the different wings. "Welcome to the fray, everyone. Artillery, position yourself to recieve fire requests - we have our objective, Combat Command B, start moving forwards to support Second Company."

"Aye, Ma'am!" Security troopers in their field BDUs and heavy weapons dashed off to reinforce the Marines, and finally behind her, the artillery and tanks started to be crewed. Barely the moment that they were, though, explosions from mortar fire started to fall around them, and the chatter of heavy weapons cut across the front ahead.

"Armour to the flanks, A and C! Objective is the British brigade headquarters! Get our overhead defenses up, and observers, start calling fire!"

Their guns loaded anti-tank submunitions and waited for the order. The observers followed her directives, and started calling fire. The guns started firing twenty rounds a minute. Guided anti-tank submunitions were minimally impactful on a built-up urban area, but there would be collateral damage. It couldn't matter right now. The tanks revved their whining turbines and roared into action, while the sound of missiles from the forward teams indicated that they were already at close quarters.

The Bulgarian IARO had already committed its reserves in responding to the sudden appearance of a reinforced battalion on one flank. Within moments, Fei'nur's unit was in close quarters battle with the better part of two Panzer battalions, but in doing so they had already in a sense won. Their drones with anti-tank missiles were going up to reinforce them, and now they had to _hang on._ If they could break through to the brigade headquarters, they'd have done their job. If they merely held, they would still like as not do it by diverting powerful enemy forces from their primary objective.

Fei'nur was a Dilgar of the old school, if one that had learned many new tricks. She had an objective, and she was already shifting her companies about to take advantage of the terrain, moving up to nearly being under fire herself. At such range, even her light tanks could ambush the heavy Reich units with the quality of support they had, darting down narrow streets and wheeling sharply as the tactical net came alive. "Keep the chatter down, this is madness enough." Her voice cracked out to keep the frequencies clear for the information that could keep her people alive - insight, rather than just dots on a holo-display.

The strategy of using the light tanks was capable enough. The IARO had no such experience, had no experience at all, in fact. It took only minutes for the convergence to occur, and as it did, the artillery knocked out the heads and rear of Panzer columns, and then the light tanks spun on one tread around side streets and opened fire into the flank of tanks trapped in the column, knocking them out before withdrawing. Within the first ten minutes, twenty of a hundred and twenty IARO heavy Panzers coming for had been knocked out and she hadn't lost even one of her own tanks. The thunder of heavy and light weapons alike rolled through the canyon of the city streets in a continuous rumble, turrets whirring and sensors spotting fire accurately onto critical parts of their heavy enemies as the war-veteran Marine tankers used better handling and proper artillery support to the maximum advantage.

Bold hunter-killer teams charged into close range against tank columns trapped by burning Panzers. Bringing their anti-tank homing missiles to the ready, they targeted tracks and engine intakes. Now the Marines were taking losses, because the IARO was quite capable of swinging around crew-served support disruptors and particle cannon and letting loose with everything they had against infantry in close quarters, but they were overwhelmed by the tactical situation and lashing out at everything around them.

 _Just like the old days, except this time we can actually hurt them with our missiles._ "The enemy is off balance. Third Company, you have a possible opening... White, this is Shovel, request local jamming of enemy tactical net starting in three minutes."

"Leather confirms, Shovel. White on point for ECM in three repeat three minutes."

"Copy, thank you." She switched channels. "Companies, snow starting in three, stand ready to pounce!" She knew the systems would _adapt_ , but with the IARO hard-pressed, she was betting the short collapse of their tactical net would let her get her breakthrough.

"Confirm, confirm…" Call-outs ran back to 'Shovel', and Fei'nur's officers prepared themselves for an aggressive counterattack and lunge for the British Brigade headquarters. This was no small task as they brought up their scout vehicles and other light equipment and transports. Acting on the offensive against a much stronger foe, even a disorganised and inexperienced one, required the utmost in professionalism and ruthlessness.

She had confidence in her people as she watched the clock tick down in the corner of her HUD. "Stand by… three… two… one… _mark!"_

Her companies exploded into action, her tanks overtaking their positions and charging forward according to the assault plan they had worked up even as the transport was underway. Pushing forward, they manoeuvred around the burning ruins of the Panzers they had already knocked out and engaged others pinned in place in columns in the street. Reinforcement was nonexistent, and this time they kept going until they made a few tank aces knocking out the enemy in the dense urban quarters.

Neither side had enough time to properly fortify buildings, outside of the main British positions, but the worst fire came as some of the IARO troops rushed into the buildings to take up positions and direct counter-fire down on them. This was purely on local initiative from IARO officers smart and capable enough to take it in response to the rapidly worsening situation. Already Fei'nur's tanks broke through the initial forces they had engaged in two thrusts. Now they had to break through the main enemy barricades along the Sauckelstrasse. The tankers didn't leave anything to chance. They revved their engines to full power and plunged through the city, letting nothing stop them as the city was lit with the flashes of energy weapons and explosions on the horizon, the power still on to shopfronts and billboards contrasting with the active combat in front of them.

With her ad-hoc headquarters platoon, she was racing after her leading elements, trying to keep everything coordinated, and her infantry companies following after the tanks, trying to catch up to screen them from the same sort of assaults she had been directing against the insurgent's tanks. It was the sort of madness which she had always risen to the top of, bracing herself as she shifted information between her spearheads and tried to keep some cohesion between her captains.

As she did, her tanks stormed the barricades while laying down shrapnel rounds, tearing through the unprotected gun positions. Dismount platoons followed into the chaos as mortars mounted on vehicles provided close support. They cleared the barricades in short, close-quarters work with rifles and grenades. Beyond them, the enemy adapting to the comms snow, their reserve battalion of Panzers was preparing to move out when it was blindsided by Fei'nur's two converging columns.

The result was a short massacre, not, perhaps, as one-sided as the groups of tanks taken apart so expertly at first. But the IARO fighters didn't handle their vehicles well enough to use their advantages, and the better part of half the battalion fell back in the chaos - now having local superiority, Fei'nur's tankers turned on the other half and started to finish the job. The Union Jack was flying right ahead. They'd done it.

Around them, the city rustled, intact except for the spots of burning buildings, the positions where the IARO still held. It was a success but not a triumph. The cantonments of the Panteri, the troops of the BNC, were still filled with armaments, the clatter of guns still echoed behind them, and the better parts of a division were still swirling in fighting around them. If major IARO reinforcements arrived, they would still lose. Fei'nur figured she had an hour to get her troops into defensive positions around the government district; there were more Bulgarians coming and the night was far from over.

* * *

Sergeant Waters had been shifted with the group detailed to keep order in the city of St. Mark of Apraxin. A single company of regular marines with the support of four light tanks and two artillery pieces, they were certainly adequate for the original envisioned purpose. The eruption of fighting in the capitol had left everyone aware of what might be coming down the pike, though, and their position was _not_ adequate for that.

Rather than wait for the situation to develop, Captain Hur'tir had ordered his troops swung out into defensive lines outside of the city. He knew it would be better to fortify the city itself, but the Dilgar officer was acutely aware of the new ROEs compared to the Dilgar service which forbade such intentional impacts on civilians. Anyway, the village rising around them would make the situation worse, so it had some logic. They had already set up HESCO bastions around the main approaches to the town, Hur'tir was no idiot, and used a couple of wheel-loaders from the village to cut trenches and prepare rudimentary berms. Now they manned them, and got their recon drones up.

Sergeant Waters' platoon laid out their positions carefully with forward flanking positions for the anti-tank missile teams for firing from defilade as any attacker was driven into the barriers. Unfortunately, it didn't take long until the trouble was detected, and unsurprisingly with the _Huáscar_ overtasked it was the drones that found it. Sixty tanks, leading a brigade-strength formation, coming up the road and running fast.

A chill ran through every single one of them. That was far, far more firepower than they could directly face. "We've got support," Jess flatly interjected onto the unit comms before any panicked chatter could show up. "Just hang tough and we'll deal with it. They're heading down this road to get to the capitol, that's the only reason for such a force. And we're not going to let them."

Hur'tir blinked again at the sensor reports from his drones. His command post was close-in to the front and he could imagine the tanks, and see them clearly from the sensors, which even, in the midst of the night, revealed the flags gaudily waving from the sensor aerials of each 'panzer'. They weren't regulars, they weren't veterans, his people were. He flashed a report to Battlemaster Fei'nur, Shovel, who shot back that simple, chilling order a minute later: _You are to hold until relieved. Lethal force is authorised._ The order had certainly come in from _Huáscar_ Actual, but Fei'nur would never abrogate such responsibility for herself. The woman was a legend for good reason.

The young Tiran Dilgar saw the tanks light up a moment later as the autonomous anti-air turrets began to thunder at his drones. Someone had noticed the warnings the Nazi sensors had given them. He called the drones down to low altitude and pulled them back to continue getting some data and keyed up his artillery section. "Lieutenant Barrow?"

"Sir?"

"You're tracking your positional data on the incoming column?"

"We are, Sir."

Hur'tir tried to remember the Captain's example on orders. "Lieutenant, I want you to buy me as much time as possible. You are fire free."

Barrow pretty much knew exactly what to do. He needed to get the enemy to deploy out of line as far from their position as possible. He ordered his guns to load guided AT cluster munitions and laid down fires on the lead of the column. The bomblets were designed to terminal home on the heat of the engine housings and penetrate them with jets of plasma. Most of them were shot down by the anti-air turrets on the tanks, but the spread of rapid-fire artillery shells was precisely staggered to overwhelm the lead, and the tanks were not in an artillery-defensive box but regular line of march, so the rear tanks in the formation couldn't add their defensive firepower to those in the lead.

A wall of fire erupted from the leading tank element as two, then four tanks exploded, one flinging its turret into the air in massive pyrotechnics easily visible from Waters' position. Still klicks away, the abrupt detonation of the lead of the column left the IARO force in confusion and disarray. Their natural impulse was to immediately shift into the attack and drive home the attack using the Panzers as aggressively as possible to overrun the enemy they now abruptly found themselves engaged with, their only warning the drones they had detected minutes before.

Hur'tir brought up his comms. " _White_ , Hotshot. We are under heavy attack by a mechanised brigade. Air support urgently requested."

"Leather for Hotshot, White dispatching assistance. You have your instruction from Shovel," Elia replied.

"We hold," he answered. Ahead, the sharp artillery strike was having the desired effect because many of the vehicles transporting infantry were not fully off-road rated and were having difficulty bypassing the burning tanks and torn up ground. But now, the Panzers were bringing their guns into position and opening fire on the lines of bastions, an obvious target once they were in line of sight. They fired as they charged, and Hur'tir admired their élan, in part because it made his job easier: They were now opening the distance from their own infantry support.

This still wasn't going to be easy if the air support didn't get to them quickly. "Anti-Panzer hunter-killer teams, prepare for engagement with unsupported panzers!" As he finished giving the instructions, Lieutenant Barrow's guns spoke again.

* * *

Lar'shan surveyed the fighter hangar around him. To avoid problems with arming, he was prepping a half-deck strike. The final complement of the _Huáscar_ had been 72 fighters and 40 bombers. They were arming half the force completely with small-diameter guided bombs, optimal for precise ground support. The other half, his half, sat armed and being spotted into the launching tubes, some of the fighters being shuttled up to the forward tubes by elevators where they were already being launched. The fighters could carry twelve each, the bombers forty-eight, including in the internal rotaries.

Around him, the pilots and crews completed boarding their craft. He keyed his line to Commander Imra as he pulled on his helmet and climbed into the cockpit of his own fighter. "Commander, we're three minutes from beginning the main launch cycle. I'm doing final pre-flight now."

"Confirmed, Major," Imra's calm tones answered. "PriFly has been directed to clear for the strike launch. Coordinate accordingly and launch when ready."

"Understood."

"Good luck, Major."

With that, Lar'shan quickly began his final pre-flight, attaching his life support connections, sealing his helmet, checking the arm status on his ejection seat, and brought up PriFly. "PriFly Actual, this is WC-50 Actual. Request commence primary bay launch."

"WC-50 Actual," Stasia's voice answered. "Is 50B1 up-checked?"

"Confirmed, PriFly Actual, 50B1 up-checked."

"Commencing launch by squadron now, WC-50 Actual."

The traditional salute from the catapult was snapped by a dozen hands as the lead wave of bombers roared down the tubes. Lar'shan completed his pre-flight and greenlighted the boards. A moment later, one of the handling trucks plucked his fighter out of its arming position and swung it toward a launching tube, locking it over the lead magnetic ring. Lar'shan saluted the handling crew, and with a rush of hard g's, they were off. It was the first deck strike in earnest from the _Huáscar._

* * *

The Marines had been busy in the meantime, doing their jobs. Even just two guns had left them in a position to fight back. The artillery had destroyed twelve tanks coming in. Then the hunter-killer teams had gone to work. Their own tanks had waited until the last moment and then delivered precise fires from behind cover.

What had followed was a bloodbath. The IARO forces were completely unprepared in terms of training to face a real military. They had the finest Nazi equipment, but at the end of the day, their élan in pressing the attack was the only thing which made them dangerous. They fought their tanks like amateurs and their infantry tactics were simplistic.

Of course, when you were a company fighting a brigade, that didn't matter for nearly as much as it should have. Within ten minutes at close quarters, having pinned the IARO advance, the order to fall back rippled down the line. As professionals, they dealt with it calmly. It was part of the plan to make them hold as long as possible, there was no shame in it. The trick was to do it _cleanly._

A second line of bastions provided a last-ditch cover, and there were several advantages to giving ground against a force of this size as the infantry caught up with their panzers. Jess ran along her positions, urging her troops back. "Move move move! Second line of defence, fall back now! Get that out and rolling!"

She piled into the last of the light scout vehicles as the fire from the panzers pounded into the barriers and knocked them around. Their artillery had fallen back first and laid down smoke for them, the tanks covering their retreat with their turrets facing aft. And then they were rolling, but they weren't the only ones who were rolling.

" _WC-50 Actual to ground forces, We are Rolling Hot._ "

When Jess heard that, she looked behind from the scout vehicle and grinned. "Oh you are so screwed now you bastards."

Lar'shan brought his fighters and bombers in at high altitude. Speed and altitude were the best defence against a disorganised field force. Against a heavy, integrated defensive network, he would have led his fighters and bombers in right on the deck. Doing so against a mechanised field force would just unnecessarily expose himself to intense defensive fire.

The Panzers were dangerous to his aircraft. They had main guns which could track and engage aircraft at altitude, even shoot at satellites in orbit. But lacking in trained, disciplined coordination, they were a random threat to shielded fighters. And as they approached their targets, the fighters began to fire drones and jammers from their torpedo tubes, which couldn't take SDBs. The drones were probes with small pop-out winglets which began to orbit the battlefield, the jammers did the same with massive electromagnetic interference while the probes used lasers to range-find and deconflict the battlefield, tight-linking data back to Lar'shan's group.

"Confirm DEX," he snapped as the trackers on his laser targeting pod into active.

"DEX confirmed… We are good on targeting.." each squadron leader reported in turn as computers were crosslinked to the telemetry.

The next order was for the bombers only, as Lar'shan finalised his attack plan. "Bombers: Altitude hold at twenty thousand meters."

"We know the drill, just sit on your ass, pickle and leave," Vanessa Carter, 50B2 Lead, laughed over the comm. "Confirm altitude hold, twenty thousand meters."

Lar'shan watched the green-lights flash across his taclink. " _Huáscar_ Actual, we have the enemy force targeted, IFF deconflict with Company A."

"All fighters, attack!" He switched his bomb switch and pickled, before leading the lead flight into a smooth dive off to port. Each of the three squadrons followed suit. As they dove out of cover he snapped the next order. "Full atmospheric thrust!"

The fighters burned hard into powered dives, sonic booms slamming down toward the ground, klicks and minutes away. The IARO finally picked them up and tank turrets hastily spun skyward to try and engage, but the diving profile toward the deck meant that the shots went wild toward space, and with their shields up and conformal a few hits from tank guns mattered little.

What did matter was that they had just painted their positions beautifully with thermal signature and fire tracking for the bombers, which now pickled and then turned back at altitude to escape the area at full power.

The hundreds of small bombs converging on the formation took a solid minute to fall on their final courses. As they did, they swept the anticipated tracks of the vehicles they were engaging and the brigade comprehensively. The tanks brought their autonomous turrets up and engaged, and in fact something like 30% of the bombs were engaged and shot down, but the sheer quantity meant there was plenty of overkill to deal with attrition.

The troops on the ground were treated to a lightshow like no other. The vast array of bombs detonated in salvoes and clusters from each aircraft and each squadron, coordinated to cover a particular grid and track a particular set of targets. The entirety of the attacking brigade and their former position disappeared into blossoming white flashes and intermingled columns of flame and smoke, flashed into existence in the dark and remaining visible through the light of the explosions to follow.

Interlocking shockwaves thundered in the air around them, automatic hearing protection kicking in as sod and flame were shorn into the sky, the shockwaves outright visible through the smoke and flame of past explosions. As each tranche of explosions faded, another from the bombers slammed home as five flights delivered twice as many bombs as all of the fighters put together.

"Mother of God," someone muttered in her platoon.

"That's flyboys for you, private," Jess snorted. "Sit around and jerk off all day until they get a clean target, then roll up and make it look easy and claim all the glory."

Just as she finished saying it, the tactical comm channel activated. "This is Bomber Two, making it look easy! Backetcha, Jarheads!" That it was a woman's voice made it even better, followed shortly by a few chords from Steppenwolf's _Magic Carpet Ride_ before Lar'shan ordered his squadron commander to cut it out.

Jess rolled her eyes.

In front of them there were twenty-five hundred dead men and four hundred burning vehicles as the light faded away into the flickers of heavy black electrical smoke. The town of St. Mark of Apraxin certainly didn't sleep that night, but it _was_ safe. They'd stared enough. She raised her voice and pitched it against the sound of the burning and occasional secondaries. "Platoon! Take - Positions!"

* * *

With the assault on the Gauleiter's palace and the Panzer column at St. Mark of Apraxin both defeated, the risk of an IARO takeover of Drachenfeldt had effectively been eliminated, and the situation on the bridge of the _Huáscar_ had calmed considerably. The second half of the wing had just been detailed to attack another column advancing on the capitol, but by itself it offered a substantially reduced threat.

"Captain, we're getting a transmission from the mining sectors," Elia said, her voice cutting across the atmosphere of relief on the bridge, conveying subconscious tension. "It's on the emergency channels."

"What do I need to know?"

"It's from the Rejuvenation Society. They're declaring the independence of the 'State of the Mountains', all the Japanese populations and mining towns and mines. It's a call to arms and a declaration of independence, Captain."

Zhen'var sank a little deeper into her command chair. "Commander Fera'Xero, find me their arms caches. Now. We are out of time."


	10. Episode 2 Act 4

**Act 4**

Immediately, Fera'Xero knew that the situation depended utterly on his own efforts. They had pulled back all of their troops acting as peacekeepers between the mining towns and the Bulgarian villages in the area. They might be winning against the IARO rising, but they had no reserves, and the planet would boil over if the BNC joined the IARO, which they probably would if the Rejuvenation Society rose unchecked.

The satellites he had deployed into orbit had been mapping the planet with each track, across multiple spectra and bands of data. From those masses of data came the problem of pattern hunting. True AI could do this but true AI grew naturally more unstable the larger it got. partial-AI or VI to his home universe worked acceptably well, processing the data in a blink of an eye, the problem became when it was trying to find significance within the patterns. _What was significance?_ What if you didn't know in advance?

If significance was not 'well posed', then the VI could simply miss it and continue to optimise. The best way to avoid this was to integrate sapient observation, but since sapient observation was intensely _slow_ compared to the computations, you needed good triggers for when it was called for.

The step already fully complete had been simple cropping. This required no effort, once programmed the computers ran through it straightforwardly. It was clear the Rejuvenation Society would not hide its heavy weapons too far away from one of the towns it held, or it could not access them in a militarily useful period of time. When that work was done, the real work started. The computer filtered images down to signatures appropriate for tunnels, or recently turned Earth, and analyzed forest canopies for heat differences.

When it pinged an anomaly, Fera'Xero brought it up and had a look. If the anomaly looked promising, then he could cue the sensors to sift through masses of multispectral data in the area to determine whether or not equipment was underground in bulk. At the same time, a second program was identifying all visible mining equipment. This combined third step was what he was still working on.

To accelerate it, knowing how dire the situation was, he now focused in on the mine entrances, having already having had several hits with equipment underground near the main towns. Track width in the visuals of tracks in the approach to the tunnels were compared with that on the equipment through a quick subroutine. Once it was clear there were three locations where they didn't match, he ran the detailed detection routines through the tunnels.

Zhen'var didn't speak again. She didn't press him, she didn't ask about his progress. He was being _trusted_ by his Captain, but with that trust, he could _feel_ the expectation that he would generate results. That expectation, implicit in her command, made him want to prove himself, and it was with extreme relief that he generated the list of three sites and shot it to Zhen'var, Tactical, and Operations. The statistical postprocessing completed a moment later. "Captain, I have the caches with ninety-nine two probability. No significant probability elsewhere."

"Thank you, Commander, good work. Commander Saumarez?"

"They're too close to towns for us to avoid collateral damage unless we use the fighters."

Zhen'var activated a line to Lar'shan. "Major, what is your status?"

"Returning to the _Huáscar_ to rearm, it will take twenty minutes to get even a single flight off from that, Captain."

"Too long, they will have moved the equipment by then," Zhen'var looked down, then back up, and spoke in general to her bridge crew. "Suggestions?"

At Navigation, Arterus paused in his completely mundane task while maintaining orbit. The question was open-ended and clearly meant for more than just the usual suspects. Elia Saumarez knew altogether very little about weapons effects, in fact.

He had felt embarrassed by his past answers to the Captain's _intent,_ but now, if he were to keep his honour, he'd make himself useful regardless. "Use the training settings, Captain, on the energy weapons. Long duration, tight beam, high-precision fires. Collapse the tunnels with minimum effect. Better yet, if we can deliver torpedoes accurately, fire the training torpedoes without warheads."

Zhen'var didn't need long. "Lieutenant Seldayiv, can we implement?"

And now it was the Dorei woman's turn to feel on the spot. She knew that like Arterus her first weeks on the _Huáscar_ had been rocky. But her Goddess' attitude was clear, and the needs of the situation as well. Daria swallowed, considering the separation of only a few hundred meters between targets and towns. "Laying firing solutions in now, Captain."

"Report when ready," Zhen'var answered, and a dim feeling of pleasure seemed to reach Daria's senses. It reassured her, and she completed the preparations in a bare minute of reprogramming, confirming lock-downs and repositioning torpedoes autonomously in the magazines.

"Ready, Captain."

"Very good. You are to engage targets as designated by Science Officer at your discretion," Zhen'var ordered. That one she had kept for herself.

Feeling like a natural extension of the team, Daria whispered a prayer for those on the ground, and started to fire. One after another, the tunnels collapsed. There would be no second rising today.

* * *

By the next day, the situation had fully calmed. There was no more organised fighting, though hit and run attacks by small groups were continuing here and there, predominantly the IARO. The Rejuvenation Society had accepted the order to stand-down with far more order.

It was right around lunch when Zhen'var got the request from Commander Imra for a meeting. It was tagged both professional and relevant to recent events.

She tapped an acknowledgement, and suggestion to meet for a working lunch, it would get her in immediately, and stop the Captain's schedule from starting the inexorable rightward slide that would inevitably result from trying to fit a _new_ event into it.

Commander Imra agreed, and arrived a few minutes later for the proffered lunch. The expected sartorial accoutrements of gloves and sunglasses were as present as ever, and she had her omnitool. "Captain, thank you for seeing me so quickly."

"Your insights are often quite valuable, Commander. Please, have a seat." She had a simple curried meat dish before her, as her hand gestured towards a chair.

"Of course, Captain." She sat, and then turned to the replicator to make her order. " _Kitfo,_ " she pronounced precisely. What appeared was a dish of minced raw meat with chili powder. She grimaced politely. "Forgive me, but of course, replicated meat does not harm any of Mother Cow, so I did not mean it as an offence, but thought it acceptable. It is - all artificial, in the end."

"What I believe is not a matter to be forced on others. It is not as if most Dilgar would hesitate even a fraction if presented with such a dish." Her head shook slightly, as Zhen'var speared a bit of replicated lamb with her fork.

"Fair. The multiverse is very cruel, dharma probably the best hope of everyone, but I was raised Orthodox, and so here I am." She ate slowly. "Captain, the Turians are coming to claim this world. For want of anything else, I was keeping up with the news reports from the treaty negotiations and allocations. We are partners in… I am oathsworn not to criticise my civilian leadership, however, we must be mindful that if this situation is not handled carefully the people of this planet will again be cruelly oppressed."

"Agreed. We are limited in what we can do overtly, but… if word reached the two factions… they hate each other, but a _Turian_ invasion? I am unsure."

"The Turians may be willing to negotiate. The norms of the Citadel Council are basically democratic, and the Turians, exceptionally law-abiding. They brook no dissent, but they are not Nazis, and by contrast may be favourable. I… It might help if we could clearly differentiate the Bulgarian and Japanese populations from the _enemy,_ Captain. Enemy in the Turian eyes, I mean."

"Unfortunately, there are no Nazis for them to demonstrate that particular virtue against. That would be easy enough, if there were still Reich forces holding out." Zhen'var sighed, and leaned back in her chair, food half-forgotten.

Rare for Abebech, she didn't neglect hers. "That's not completely true. There's certainly holdouts and stay-behinds on the planet. Should we act this way, Captain? Risk problems for the Turians in favour of finding peace here and now, but gamble that everyone will be better off as a consequence?"

"I think it a better thing for the planet than letting them continue the way they are, Commander Imra." She looked so uneasy about coming out and _saying_ that risking this level of problem just _might_ pay off.

"I believe I understand, Captain," she said, sharply and very calmly. "Well, the next few days will be interesting in the Chinese sense of the word, not like we haven't already had that. Speaking of, is Commander Saumarez doing all right?"

"No, but she is holding herself together and doing her duty. I can barely hope to understand the smallest hints of what she is going through." Zhen'var spoke more softly and conversationally.

"I had thought as much. I…" Abebech paused, and pursed her lips. "I feel regretful, for I stay away from other telepaths, on account of my past. I should not say more, for, it is what it is. I hope she will be well. You are a fine friend to have, Captain."

* * *

About an hour later, Zhen'var's omnitool trilled with a message from Elia. "Captain, this is Commander Saumarez. I've got a leader of the Rejuvenation Society on channel. He wants to come to the _Huáscar_ to negotiate directly with us and is prepared to meet without preconditions with the Bulgarian National Council. Captain, I recommend accepting the proposal. It is without preconditions, and Mr., ah, Takahashi Gendo."

"I concur, Commander. Inform him we are accepting his proposal, and prepare to inform the National Council of it as well - once we have sounded out the Rejuvenation Society." The feeling that, perhaps, they were turning the corner and making _progress_ made Zhen'var's lips curl into a smile of their own accord.

"Understood, Captain. One moment." There was a pause, and then: "We have beaming coordinates. Shall I bring him directly onboard and arrange for one of the conference suites? No party, it's just Mr. Takahashi."

"Please do. I will be down once I am presentable for a diplomatic meeting. Thank you, Commander." She could not completely hide the grimace at the thought of yet another occasion to pull out her Alliance dress uniform.

Nonetheless, a few minutes later the Rejuvenation Society representative was there. He was a tough, calloused man with a balding head and graying hair, burly in the classically Japanese way, but dressed in Edo period finery. That was a shocking contrast to the jumpsuits and practical miner's garb of the other Rejuvenation Society leaders seen so far. Elia was standing to the side, making sure that the shipboard hospitality was appropriate. Japanese was in some way the second great culture of her Earth, and she understood the appropriate forms.

Arriving, Captain Zhen'var pressed her palms together and bowed slightly. "Hajimemashite, Takahashi-san." Having grown up on the same Earth, the Captain had her own understanding of the forms expected with one who did not speak the language.

He looked archly at the alien woman for a moment, and in particular at the sword buckled on her side. Then he bowed. "Hajimemashite, _Battlemaster_ Zhen'var." He had been doing his own research.

"The pattern of Dilgar ceremonial swords, and their art of use, is very similar to that of the katana, Takahashi-san. It was not taken as a prize in the war, it was forged for me when I was awarded my commission in the Union's Navy."

"I think we understand a great deal of each other," he replied after a moment, very deliberately. "My people were once the allies of these Germans, but they undid us into utter ruin, such that we would have known a better fate to be defeated in that long-off war."

"Sometimes one must endure the unendurable, that one may again find pride in a future that cannot be seen from the present. Please, sit. Thank you for coming, I hope we both find satisfaction in what we are to discuss."

He sat. "Endure the unendurable. How true of you, Battlemaster. When my people made a choice to live, we had to reach our accommodation with this power. We could not forget who we were, in hope of the future and honour of our ancestors. I am one of those whose lineage remembers. The Rejuvenation Society speaks of moral, natural rejuvenation."

"Such is what we have undergone as well, three lines of thought now coming together once more into one. We are few, but we have rediscovered our spirit and our pride. I encourage you in yours, _so long_ as it does not lead to the crushing of others rising to find theirs again in so doing. Just the same, I will not permit them to do the same to you."

"Battlemaster, your own situation is fortunate. When your rescuers came, you were under arms with a fleet in space. The reality is that you do not control our final fate. And this despite the fact our resistance to the Nazi tyranny has been long. After the defeat of the last resistance in the Americas in the 21st century, Dai-Nippon divided the world with the Reich. It was only as we spread beyond the solar system that we were brought low. But we were not the Reich, not in those days. I understand the Jews, what remained, were the friends of your Alliance from the first, and perhaps showed you the way to defeat the Reich?"

"I do not, but my voice, and my actions, to assist _you_ in taking control of your fate." A pause. "They did assist us, and fight alongside the Alliance in the final campaign. That is correct, Takahashi-san."

"They got their technology from Japan!" He chuckled softly. "The Kaifeng Jews, the refugees of Russia and the east who came to our lands - the Jewish Autonomous Oblast of the Soviet Union. These places we had Jews, we did not turn them over to the Reich. When the war was over and we were defeated, we could not bear to see our enemies complete our humiliation. One of my ancestors gave the order, and handed them several star cruisers of the Imperial Japanese Navy, before committing seppuku to avoid more reprisals upon our people from the Germans. That is the story of how they escaped the trap the Reich had laid for them." He followed her eyes, sharply.

She shifted, leaning back in her chair. "I will seek to confirm the information in a way that raises it to the attention of those responsible for the future course of this world, and others with your people upon them. It speaks very well to your people, and fits with the best of Nippon, her traditions, and her people."

"I am willing to negotiate with the Bulgarian National Council on the basis of a single planetary government with community power sharing enshrined in the constitution," he said after a silent moment. "We both have a long time, long history of resisting the Nazi power. Our peoples both fought in many different ways when we were betrayed, we are more alike, even in the ancient past the Bulgarians were Asians. We have common ground, and we are prepared to work to find it. Will you tell them? Will you support the talks? Their greed is short-sighted, but if we can make a mutually advantageous arrangement, we may still win them over."

"I will. My Marines are holding a small fishing village that is now something of an island of neutrality between your peoples." She went on, daring to hope, at least a moment. "Your effort has my full support, Takahashi-san. Your people, _together,_ hold more right to this world than any others may, no matter what the extremists may wish in their short-sighted desires."

"Tomorrow, a conference, if Alferov agrees. The place will be fine."

"I shall contact him at once, then. Osaki ni shitsureishimasu, Takahashi-san." She knew her Japanese was not the _best_ , but she _would_ make the effort. For a moment, at least, it seemed like Drachenfeldt might have an even shot at peace.

* * *

Stepan Stepanovich's Outlanders Hotel was seeing more business than he had ever dreamed of since the Reich was overthrown. Turned into an impromptu conference facility, a solid hundred people, half from the Bulgarian National Council and half from the Rejuvenation Societies, were packed into its halls. It had been important enough for both Will and Zhen'var to go to the surface, with Commander Imra left in charge on the _Huáscar._

The Captain, hiding her anxiousness, looked about the place, noting just how _many_ were here, and her Marines, holding security in their best, guns pointed outwards and thankful for it.

"Opening session seems to be going well," Will remarked. "For all the stereotype of diplomacy, nobody was really that unreasonable. When do you think we'll need to mediate?"

"Details and timing. Grand statements are easy, concrete commitments are _hard_ , Commander. They do not have a lot of time, either, and the Nazis put as much distance between them as they possibly could."

"Do we have any idea of how to make it work? I know in the Colonies we had absolute Colonial representation regardless of population, but that isn't considered _highly_ democratic. Seems to be something like what Mr. Takahashi proposed, though."

"Usually, it works either with an external threat holding everyone together, or an external patron forcing some sort of power-sharing, but those are unstable. His plan _should_ work… if there is an external threat to remind of the alternative."

"So, you're saying my people are weird," Will flashed a wry grin.

"Out of the usual ordinary, perhaps, but I would not call them _weird_ , Commander. You _chose_ your government, and to prevent tyranny against a lesser-populated division of a nation, it is not unheard of, at the least?"

"You're right. If only it still mattered…" Will wasn't the kind of man to dwell, though. He glanced over and started in surprise. "Hmm. I think that's Alexandra Tambovna."

"Alexandra Tambovna?" Zhen'var blinked and followed his eyes to the girl organising the serving staff.

"One of Gergena Tambovna's children, I saw them in the recordings Stasia's people took, from the trawler operation."

"Ah. Brave of them. She must be taking day labour jobs for her family, then. The situation remains very unfortunate on the surface."

"Yes it does. But maybe we'll actually have a chance to help with that now." Will glanced at his omnitool. "It's almost time for the first session."

"Well, cover me, I am going in." She gave a thin smile, as the captain straightened and moved to take her position at the table.

Alferov and Takahashi sat at the sides. Most of the others weren't even at the main conference room, they were there just because they were too politically important not to invite.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I and the Alliance are here to mediate, but the work of negotiation and agreement is in bulk, yours. This world is claimed by both of you _,_ gained by the sweat and blood shed under Nazi oppression. I find both cases compelling, as shall my superiors."

"There is land enough to share on Drachenfeldt," Alferov said, using the German name. "We have always been prepared to share that. Captain, the Nazis have spent so long degenerating our culture. We want to celebrate it. That is where the crux of our separation comes from. It is not disrespect."

"The mines, however, are an element that both sides require to be a state capable of standing without constant outside support in the multiverse. That is the issue, is it not?"

"They are the future prosperity of our people," Alferov replied.

"They are the blood and sweat of our's," Takahashi countered. "We did not have a choice but to work them."

"It was the Nazis who gave you no such choice, miner. As for us, they would let us own nothing else."

"And yet you both need them, sirs. You _both_ need them, as common heritage, or the other will be so weak that another power could swoop down, gain a foothold, and then threaten the one holding the mines. I do not need to speak in hypotheticals, neither can stand without them. Bulgarians do not work them, and Japanese were denied anything _but_ working them."

"We can bring…"

The _look_ that Takahashi gave to Alferov made him trail off. "Machines? Buying them will cast you into slavery. Yet another group of castoffs? Fight two at once instead of one? Is this what you want to bring to your people?"

"You want the _mines,_ and this…"

" _President,_ " Takahashi then addressed Alferov. "I want the Japanese people of Drachenfeldt to regain their pride. Once we built starships. I do not want us to be a nation in the mines forever."

"And _you_ , Mister President, want the Bulgarian people to do the same. You _can_ have national pride without destroying the other. A condominium."

"A Republic of Both Nations," Alferov muttered, from some distantly remembered lesson of old Earth history, perhaps.

"We will share power, fairly. Half the seats in the legislature to each nation," Takahashi pressed, seeing a moment.

Alferov looked up dimly. "But the mines? Wait, Captain, do you _mean_ the mines?"

"I do, President. My suggestion would be that both states be confederated to act in common with foreign relations, in order that others may not pry you apart, _both_ states fully sovereign, and with the mines under the control of _both_ sides, equally, but owned by neither. The common heritage of the _people_ of this world."

"And the wealth we will lose? Private industry will clamour for compensation." Alferov looked almost dazed.

"You would not like it if a true accounting of the cost of our forced labour were taken, President," Takahashi replied.

"It is in both your best interests to accept that the mines are not a prize to be fought over, or an issue to be exploited."

Will stepped in smoothly from where he had been silent at Zhen'var's side. "Gentlemen, a proposal: All revenue from the condominion will belong to the State, but when the revenue is in excess of needs of both communities, it will automatically be paid toward a fund whose job is to invest and repay the interests of the former private owners."

The men looked to each other. Alferov squinted. Several of his men were muttering behind him and to his left. There were many who wanted more.

Then Will turned and whispered to Zhen'var's ear. " _A Turian squadron is coming, Captain._ "

 _Then we're out of time._ In a moment, paths crystalized before Zhen'var. _They deserve a chance._ Deliberately, she turned her head, and asked clearly, with a momentary casting of her eyes towards the negotiators; "I am sorry, Commander, I did not hear that. Could you please repeat it?"

"Of course, Captain. A Turian squadron is coming to Drachenfeldt to claim possession for the Hierarchy."

Alferov's face lost all expression. His men muttered, and some cursed out loud. The Rejuvenation Society delegates were silent.

And then the Bulgarian man rose, and extended a hand across the table, his skin pale and a bead of sweat above his eye. "We have a basis for the formation of a provisional government, Mister Takahashi. Vice President."

Takahashi shook his hand and then bowed. "We do, and we must be quick. Sir, we share this planet, and, if it becomes necessary, we will also defend it."

* * *

The next day, Zhen'var gathered her command group for an informal dinner. Properly, Nah'dur, Fei'nur and Anna also counted, but Elia, Abebech and Will were the line officers, and they were all available, anyway, with Lieutenant Arterria watchstanding. Quite astonishingly, since Zhen'var had never seen her drink anything other than wine before, Abebech had a sour Flemish ale, which Elia gave in and followed suit with.

"Congratulations, we have successfully thus far stopped the planet from bursting into civil conflict on anything more than a moderate scale." She herself nursed a Tiran fruit liquor, heavily cut with water. "Now the Turians are coming, and I am expecting to have an _interesting_ conversation when they do."

"The Colonies fought many wars like this and only the Cylons brought us to unify with each other," Will answered. "Once we thought it was something of a wonder it had happened, but now I see it's really rather typical."

"I'd agree to that. There's nothing quite like another threat to be the start of a peace between two rival factions," Abebech answered. "Of course, the hate … Will linger. But much depends on what happens next."

"Power sharing governments of the type they want don't have a great history. Northern Ireland, Cyprus, Lebanon, in Earth history," Elia said. "And some of their hatred seems scarcely different from what telepaths experience at the hands of normals." She looked up wryly, glancing in particular to Abebech.

The woman, who was usually expressionless over such matters, offered a wan smile.

"The alternative is being under a Turian protectorate. Perhaps one might see it as the best solution, but if I endorse that, I endorse the occupation of _my_ people the same."

Abebech raised her beer. "God Bless the Ottoman Empire," she said, in a half-serious and half-mocking toast. "Because people like to age with those who look like they do, and be close to one another, with those who think like they do. And so we are here today, holding them apart, and the Turians the next. Normally, to be honest, comrades, I would say a Government of Both Nations is a doomed cause. And yet… There is something to be said for the outside threat. But God forbid you ever see it without one. Forgive me for being a cynic."

"It's all right," Will shook his head. "What was the Ottoman Empire?"

"A great old Muslim 'Gunpowder Empire' from the Early Modern age, still exists in at least one universe I think. Ethnarchs, different laws for different people, but at least in our history their officers in the Balkans would write letters to their friends, saying they were gaolers on a madhouse," Elia explained. "I remember that part of the Corps political history lesson. The professor was very opinionated and absolutely convinced telepaths would have been treated better in the early modern nations. He was probably right, as sad as it is. There might be something to the Commander's toast."

"One can see some virtue - yet one living under an empire that uses force to keep the peace sometimes unbearable." Sighing, Zhen'var swirled her glass. "It is not wrong, unfortunately. You _can_ establish such states, but they are rare. Switzerland, for instance, is the famous example, as is Canada and Quebec."

"Does that obviate us of the need to make the attempt? I think not," Abebech replied. "So, perhaps we can nudge things. It is not our obligation as Alliance offers to allow the Turians to trample on the rights of others, that is a different thing than the promise of actual possession for this world."

Will grimaced tightly. "Well, we can't go against the agreements of our own government either, Commander." Few people called Imra _Abebech,_ rather than by her rank. But Will certainly felt in that moment she was trending toward something perhaps best not said out loud.

"Certainly not," Abebech replied modestly. "Still, it is the general intent of the Alliance to promote participatory self-government and democratic norms. We all swore to uphold that. The Harris Station Charter doesn't change it in the slightest."

"The _moral_ choices are the hardest part of our service." Zhen'var's eyes flickered around the table. "Regardless, we have our orders. The Hierarchy _is_ coming, though I _also_ see a responsibility to ensure that the coalition we have just helped to birth can negotiate with any effort to _impose_ rule upon them."

"Understood," Abebech smartly answered. There was nothing more on it from her, but one couldn't help but feel she had been given her marching orders clearly enough.

* * *

Violeta was sitting down, having a 'Southwest Chicken Salad' from the replicator and trying the coffee, which was at least authentic. The Hospitality section had installed an old style steel pot coffee maker because some of the crew from universes without replicators had actually grown up used to the subtle change in flavour from the keep-warm pot and preferred it, and there was no way a replicator could keep up with that. Apparently the rumour had it that's _all_ the Chief's Mess drank, but there were nonhuman Chiefs so she doubted it. The original grounds were a blend called 'Nantucket' from some company in an American state called Vermont, she wasn't sure of the universe. A part of her wondered why the hell she'd given in and tried it and another part was worried she was going to start liking it. _Actually, that's probably the same feeling. Sheesh._

The wardroom had the local news broadcast on the tri-dee. Some young Bulgarian guy with a big bouffant hairdo and an old-style business suit talked a mile a minute on it, everything he said was a lie (and sometimes patently racist enough to make Violeta's eyes goggle), and it was great black humour if you were so inclined. A couple of pilots at the bar kept laughing loudly at every cringing, ridiculous thing he said, including claiming that the artillery of the 'Panthers' paramilitaries was blessed by God so that it would never miss and that the Alliance troops would have been defeated without BNC assistance, when of course the BNC troops had never left their cantonments to fight the IARO over the risk of defections.

The screen flashed to an animation of a stereotypical Nazi depiction of a Jew with his hands rubbing together. "In our next segment we will consider if a Jewish element incited the Internal Apraxin Revolutionary Organization through false-flag operations to attack the Bulgarian National leadership. Doktor- _naut_ Bogdan Princip," he welcomed his guest.

"Jesus Christ, that's enough!" One of the pilots shouted and flipped the channel back to the Armed Forces Network in the middle of a segment on the importance of Fall Protection Training. "How the fuck did that Peacham dude let this shit on the air?"

Violeta sighed in relief. It was nice to know her crewmates had limits.

Another voice spoke up from the food replicators. "Lieutenant Ferguson, I do believe the Brigadier is trying to set an example with permitting a relatively free press. Unfortunately the sentiments of the people do not really live up to it," Arterus explained from his food line.

"So they're not really monitoring it? Then why was the pirate broadcast illegal?"

"Well, they're trying to prevent specific incitement, so only approved channels are going up, but nobody is monitoring them in advance. I rather expect they will get in trouble for it later. Commander Saumarez explained to me what the problem with the Jews and the Reich was, though I confess I still don't really understand it."

"I don't think _anyone_ does, Lieutenant," Ferguson answered.

Arterus shook his head wryly. Violeta gestured for him to come over. "Hey, Arterus. Come on."

"Ah, thank you…" He trailed off for a moment. "Violeta. I confess I'm not used to that."

"Oh, it's fine." She watched him sit. "I see you didn't avail yourself of the coffee pot."

"It's hardly going to be as strong as hholaer," he answered with a chuckle, gesturing to his cup on his tray.

"Rihannsu equivalent to coffee?"

"It's more like the Indigenous American black drink, but much stronger. So yes."

"What's the food?"

" _Feihha_. Chief Héen described it as, what was it, ' _Spanakopita stuffed with cheese, oysters and jalapenos'_ when I got her to try to it."

"...I might try that sometime, actually. How are things?"

"I _think_ I'm starting to actually understand what the Captain is doing. I went to Commander Imra for advice and she gave me a reading list. To some extent I believe the United Federation of Planets practices a lot of this, just in a different guise. It's interesting. Commander Imra's reputation certainly doesn't suggest she'd support it, but she does."

"It's kind of a mission-oriented tactics development for starship operations, in a way, I think," Violeta replied. "You should forward me that reading list. Commander Imra is… Distant, but nobody is going to deny she's one of the best starship commanders we have. Captain Andreys even said as much on the _Aurora_ once."

"She reminds me of a certain kind of stereotypical Rihannsu female officer, usually commanding a Warbird on the frontier until well past the age of a hundred and fifty. I've thought my cousin has the making of the type before…"

"Your cousin?"

Before Arterus could answer, his eyes jerked to his omnitool. "Hmm, perhaps we should bring the broadcast from the surface back up."

"Arterus… Let's not?" Violeta grimaced.

"No, no, it's an official government announcement." That got everyone's attention, since more often than not Big Deal News was discovered by people in the military by watching news broadcasts, just like everyone else.

The screen returned to the image of the Bulgarian station, but the reporter was gone. Instead, they were focusing in on a podium, on which stood three Bulgarian and three Japanese men.

President Alferov was speaking. "People of Drachenfeldt, I stand before you today with representatives of the Rejuvenation Societies. We, of the Bulgarian National Council and the Rejuvenation Societies, have come to the true and profound realisation that Drachenfeldt is big enough for all of us. Tensions between our peoples were intentionally created by," Violeta cringed and for a moment wondered what he'd say, then he continued, fortunately, with "the Nazi tyranny and exacerbated by disputes over the Mines."

"The reality is that the Multiverse at large has many knives out for planets which can't keep the peace among their own people," he continued. "We cannot afford war among ourselves when greater, inestimably greater, challenges remain for the peace of our world. We have agreed to this and to a principle for condominion over the mines, to share the great wealth which will make us strong. Accordingly, we have agreed to a Declaration of Independence of the Confederal Republic of Drachenfeldt, on the basis of equality of both nations, Bulgarian and Japanese."

"Third declaration of a new country for Drachenfeldt in a week," Ferguson chuckled. "We'll see how long _this_ one will last."

Arterus was looking thoughtful, though, as he turned back to Violeta. "Perhaps, just perhaps, longer than the others."

* * *

Second Lieutenant James Canusco, Alliance Marines, had his platoon stretched across two roadblocks at a converging V intersection around a 'flatiron' building which had been lightly damaged in the fighting with the IARO. The primary function of the continuing roadblocks in the city was to prevent concentrations of troops and insure the security of the government district. They had sensors deployed in the sewers, drones on patrol, and forward detection sensors in the buildings out from the checkpoints for a quarter mile.

Against another attack by the IARO, it would have been totally adequate. As it was there was a small cluster of people with Bulgarian nationalist signs and placards who were protesting a hundred meters down the street, but they were outside of the mandatory stop line and hadn't tried approaching it or started growing in numbers. A few beaten down old bums were drinking in the deserted streets, possibly from liquor bottles they had plundered from dead IARO men, but the bodies had all been collected and the fire department had washed down the blood and burnt debris. The calm was, in its own way, utterly unnerving.

There were a few businesses open since it was daylight, and people simply needed to get supplies considering they were all under a curfew. James stepped out of his headquarters to check on his men and take smoko. He lit up after checking the squads and stood still, taking a moment to watch some people going in and out of a deli. They were mostly carrying fresh baked bread, rough-hewn natural loaves, prepared food, cans of condensed milk with supplies from outside the city interrupted. It was bad enough to make field meals look appetizing, really.

"Lieutenant, Sir! We've got a signature!"

The voice of his sensors WO from inside made him drop the cigarette into the dry concrete of the street and dash inside. His sensor section for the platoon had one WO and two specialists, operating the complicated but highly automated network of drones and autonomous deployed sensors which instrumented the front they were covering in their sector.

"Go ahead, Kelli," he reached for a water bottle and leaned in.

"Sir," she tapped on the controller and highlighted a grid section, georeferenced with a 3D map of the city buildings. "There's a group following the lateral Nederstrasse. The signatures are consistent with about twenty-two individuals in SS Panzergrenadier armour. And they're using the stealth systems properly, I can barely pick them up at all."

"Well, that's considerably more competent than the last batch… Jesus." He activated a comm channel. "Bikie to Shovel, we've got a detachment in SS Panzergrenadier armour going up the Nederstrasse."

"Bikie," the Dilgar's voice answered in her growling British accent, "this is Shovel. Move out half your platoon and get in their rear. Further orders will be forthcoming from Condenser."

"Understood, Sir." Fei'nur's voice was terse and she'd immediately moved on to other things. After the initial contact report it was his company commander's job to give him orders anyway. What _she_ was up to was answered moments later as James split his troops and started at a dog-trot down the right-hand street.

Explosions ripped the air as the company mortar section engaged and the crisp sounds of backwoods yankeedom echoed on his channel. "Bikie, they are confirmed hostile and we are providing support, get those positions now and cut 'em off!" Condenser was already in action.

With a snap survey of the buildings and an omnitool projection showing their interiors, he selected positions above the _strasse_ and broke off fire-teams with his heavy support weapons to hold them. Orders were given in radio silence with hand gestures as explosions erupted across the city. A few civvies were still running for cover from the streets, leaping into the entrances to the cellars of rowhouses. They ignored them and dashed up to their positions, ultimately James taking cover in the natural foxhole of a partial opening to a basement window a few feet below sidewalk level, facing the Nederstrasse. Another fireteam charged across the street, and as they did, disruptor fire erupted after them.

Explosions of mortar bombs rent the sky, his helmet's auto-polarization protecting his eyes as the line of detonations walked the street around the attackers and covered the final dash of the fireteam. They made it all right across the street, and promptly began pulse fire toward the Panzergrenadiers. From above his head one of the heavy pulse cannon opened fire and caught a Panzergrenadier repositioning as the mortar fire faded. Satisfyingly, the suited figured dropped as a hail of fire swept the street, converging on them from buildings on both sides.

Even so, these men had responded professionally to being attacked from two directions at once and were holding their own, positioning a rear-guard as most concentrated to continue driving forward at all. They simply behaved nothing at all like the recklessly brave but ill-disciplined IARO men, and altogether a great deal like actual SS troops, which just a few weeks ago James had been fighting. He didn't like that _at all._

"Condenser, this is Bikie." His Company commander was a dyed in the wool Rhode Island swamp yankee and grew up playing with steam tractors with her dad. It showed. Fortunately, she was clever enough to be quick on the uptake. His explanation was as blunt as it could be. "These aren't IARO cunts. They're Real Deal SS."

"Roger that, Bikie. We're getting multiple reports, and…" The rest of the sentence dissolved as James was bodily thrown back into the building hard enough for his armour to chip and unseat bricks. The explosion partially collapsed the hole as his armour padding compressed to minimise damage from the compression blow in the back and the hardshell rejected the concrete fragments in front.

A group of Panzergrenadiers from the rearguard stormed straight toward him, laying down their own covering fire with their suit-attached micro missile launchers, visible through the acrid smoke and clouds of concrete dust. There was only one pulse gun firing from his position back at them, and that meant nothing good, as he overcame the shock to his senses and opened fire with his own to augment it. The commo chirped, the message coming from the corporal leading the heavy weapons section in the building right above. "El-Tee, evacuate straight into the basement, we're gonna put down a line of grenades on 'em when they hit your position!"

That was insane, but he had only seconds and otherwise the SS had him dead by rights. "Fall back through the windows!" He shouted, and Private Marriss got on it, kicking them in. But Corporal Tucker was clearly never moving again and Specialist Anderson was twitching in the side of the pit. He lunged for the man, and dragging him by his feet, hauled him into the basement. As he did, one of the SS panzergrenadiers came _through_ the window and the battered wall.

The moment that the attacker did, the world outside exploded as a hurled _bundle_ of zip-tied grenades exploded in unison into the midst of the SS attack and the fireteam across the street raked the very position he had been in seconds before. The SS man inside the basement with him rose to his feet despite the blast, the building having partially shielded him.

There were only seconds, less than seconds, and James formed a hardlight blade from his omnitool and lunged, going for the close-quarters drill with a pistol in the other hand. The blade skittered across the armour until it caught a joint as he fired the pistol again and again, energy bursts pumping into the armour of the Panzergrenadier. They toppled back into the wall, but then a power-reinforced mailed gauntlet sent him flying away, slamming into someone's pile of old boxes.

But the SS man was missing an arm, and as he turned one of his suit weapons toward James, Private Marriss' rifle barked again and again. Gouges and chunks were torn into the armour at close-range on the max power setting for the rifle, and finally the SS trooper toppled down. A dim kind of calm prevailed, even as the roar of combat echoed unendingly outside. They were, for the moment, alive.

* * *

On the bridge of the _Huáscar,_ the reports from Fei'nur had steadily become more abbreviated as the situation developed. Finally, she came back on the channel. "Captain, do you have a squadron orbiting with small-diameter bombs?"

"Yes, Colonel, we do have air support we can use in the city with minimal collateral."

"Thank you, Captain. We need to deconflict this situation urgently. The primary target of the SS was not our forces, it was the Confederal Provisional Government and party offices and officers of the Bulgarian National Council. They were aiming for a decapitation strike on the Council, not a coup de main against us. The Panteri have deployed to assist us and are also involved in heavy combat with the SS, but there is no coordination."

"Colonel, are you asking for permission to directly coordinate with the BNC and the Panteri officers to engage the SS stay-behinds?"

"Yes, Captain. It is the best course of action."

"And Brigadier Peacham's opinion?"

"Captain, I do not believe that man is suitable to make the best decisions for protecting our forces and defeating the enemy in these circumstances."

Zhen'var flashed her fangs. That was a serious condemnation from Fei'nur, but hardly surprising in the context of what had happened during the IARO attacks. For affirmation, she shot a look to Will, who nodded simply. "She's the woman on the ground, Captain."

"Permission granted, reach out to Alferov at once."

"Thank you, Captain." The channel blinked off.

"There will be consequences," Zhen'var remarked as Elia quickly went to work handling fire support requests. It didn't take long for the consequences to materialise, either. Brigadier Peacham contacted her on a priority channel.

"Captain, I understand you have authorized collaboration with the Bulgarian National Council?"

"Absolutely, Brigadier," Zhen'var answered calmly. "It was necessary in the circumstances to restore order, and I might add that your troops have also been very badly pressed. Surely you must have seen the necessity of this."

"Captain, the Turians are arriving within the hour. We could have held on long enough to hand the situation over to them. You have now immeasurably complicated that process."

"Brigadier, my first interest remains to preservation of life and defeat of the enemy. We were not fighting the IARO, but Nazis. My action is correct and I am content with it."

"Correct, Captain?" He glared. "You are a _Captain_ and I am the ranking allied officer and Governor."

"That is… Incorrect." Zhen'var folded her hands. "I am a _Battlemaster_ as an allied officer. While a Brigadier in the Alliance military may rank me, a Brigadier in another associated military manifestly does not, and I was not placed under your operational command."

"Very well, _Battlemaster._ You are the one who will give an accounting to your superiours for your decision to harm the conditions of occupation for the Turian Hierarcy. Do you think you have the right to order me to follow this course of action as well, then?"

"I believe I have the right as one officer to another to recommend to you in the strongest terms possible that you cooperate militarily with the Confederal Government," Zhen'var answered. "Indeed, it will be I, not you, who answer for this course of action. Keep your men alive, Brigadier."

 _"_ _Very Well._ " The channel blinked out without the usual pleasantries.

Growling, Zhen'var got up from her command chair. "Will, you have the conn. Let me know when the Turians reach orbit." With that, she disappeared into her ready room.

* * *

She did not have to wait long, musing as she worked on reports and drank chai on why the SS had attacked at what was really the worst time for them. _Perhaps they thought that the Confederal government meant they had lost their chance._ Regardless, it had nicely completed the work that she had started with Will, Elia and Abebech. Sometimes one shouldn't look gift horses in the mouth, but it left Zhen'var with a naggling feeling.

Ninety minutes in, Will called her from the bridge. "Captain, the Turian General is hailing us."

"Thank you, Will." She sat down her more cup after emptying it, and without bothering to sign the last form, stepped out and back onto the bridge. They were still at modified stations, and she took her time to get settled into her command chair. "On-screen."

The image flashed into existence, showing a brilliantly armoured Turian with a group of more around him on the flagbridge of his cruiser. "This is the _Tarallus,_ General Keranus commanding. Captain Zhen'var, I have arrived on the behest of my government to seize, administer, and annex the planet Drachenfeldt for the Turian Hegemony. You are hereby directed to have your troops on the surface prepare landing positions for my troops and to take measures to secure the civilian population until we can assume responsibility for the maintenance of regular order."

It seemed like every eye on the bridge of the _Huáscar_ turned toward her. Notwithstanding her command style, this was one call Zhen'var alone had to make. She settled back, and for a moment was silent.


	11. Episode 2 Act 5

**Act 5**

"General Keranus," Zhen'var replied calmly, though her claws skittered unpleasantly on the granite slabs on her armrests. "I cannot."

"You _cannot_? Captain Zhen'var, we are allies, and the situation on the surface must be immediately brought under control! The planet is a hotbed of armed factions with fighting already going on. I _insist_ you assist me in taking immediate measures to impose order."

She took a breath, and tried to will herself to remain outwardly composed. "I cannot, General. My forces are currently integrated with those of the Coalition government in defending against the attacks by the Reich guerilla forces. It would take some time to withdraw and re-deploy them, which I cannot begin to do until such time as the fighting is over. You will need to involve the Defense Ministry of the Confederal Republic in your planning if you wish it sooner than this."

"Captain, this so-called Confederal Republic is pretending to territory that the Harris Station Charter assigned to the Turian Hierarchy and that I am under orders to place under Turian military administration as territory of the Hierarchy," he answered stiffly. "Surely your superiours have made you aware of this."

"They have, General. You were not present when the _Werwolf_ elements attacked. I had no choice but to act. My orders have been given, and my forces are engaged alongside elements of the Republic in resisting _Reich_ stay-behind forces. I cannot change those facts, General Keranus."

"What you are telling me is that I must wait in orbit while substantial forces armed with Reich weapons consolidate their control over the surface _with your assistance?_ This will lead to ten thousand dead Turians and a protracted guerrilla campaign, Captain. You have put me in a serious position." His rigid, expressionlessly armoured face was a perfect glower of silver, though he knew the reputation of Dilgar enough to not even bother with petty attempts to intimidate her. Never had their like existed in the whole history of Council space.

"Only if you attack them, General. They are willing negotiators, with long histories of resistance to Reich rule." She refused to be baited, refused to even admit she _might_ have done something wrong.

"They are willing negotiators?" There was a pause. "I will not go to the surface until my troops have gone to the surface, Captain. However, I will meet with their representatives aboard the _Huáscar._ I am not pleased with this course of events, but nor am I interested in needlessly provoking prospective citizens of the Hierarchy when they are actively engaged with Reich holdout forces. We will _talk._ No preconditions, Captain, make that clear to them. I can give them no preconditions."

"I do not believe they expect them. The _Huáscar_ shall stand ready to assist. I shall inform them as soon as the fighting permits the effort."

"I will be standing by with my staff for invitation to the _Huáscar. Tarallus,_ out."

Elia looked across the bridge to Zhen'var. "Captain, shall we raise the Confederal government, or wait until the situation has been stabilised?"

"Raise them now. As callous as it may sound, they will gain more with the Turians if their forces are still actively engaged when they sit down to negotiate."

"Of course, Captain!" There was a little grin as she turned back to her console and ordered Lieutenant Tor'jar to establish the connection.

* * *

An hour later, Alferov arrived on the _Huáscar_ with Noburo Shiba, the appointed Foreign Minister of the government, and a brace of guards from each of the Confederal Armies, who managed to be attired in disconcerting throwback uniforms to the last days of their respective ethnicities' independence.

Zhen'var had insisted on full military honors for them all, as she herself felt her stomach flutter at just how far she had exceeded the spirit, if not letter, of her orders.

That meant full dress, and Abebech had offered to come, Elia was there as well while Will had the conn, both of them if anything looking happier in the stiffer, formal whites than they did in their regular service uniforms. She introduced her officers, in particular, "Commander Abebech Imra, Captain of the ASV _Heermann._ "

"Captain Zhen'var," Alferov offered. "Thank you for the invitation. The Turian General will be arriving shortly?" He was sweaty and nervous, Elia could feel the fear for the future of his people bleeding from him.

"He will. Turians are a very… _military_ and ordered people. They also have their pride. You will have to make concessions. Possibly accept a protectorate, with terms you will have to jointly fight hard to keep tolerable. They _are_ willing to invade if they think they have no other choice, that, you must remember, but we have given you a chance to prove your worth to them, not merely as subjects."

"A _protectorate?_ How is that better than what the Nazis gave us, Captain?" His hands fidgeted, he gestured idly, his eyes shook sharply.

Elia offered a bland smile as she breezed in to interpose herself and disrupt the Bulgarian President from working himself into a rage. "We can discuss, if you like, some options, why don't we walk to the conference suite?"

"Ahh, Commander - Saumarez, was it?"

"Yes," she offered, proactively engaging rather than letting the anxiety the Bulgarian President felt continue to creep toward her. _He's not thinking about immediately bellowing threats now,_ Elia casted to Zhen'var. _All from surface thoughts, promise._

"Turians do not mean it as a euphemism. They _actually_ mean a protectorate in the _proper_ sense. That your people fight against the Reich for generations, and do so now, will earn you credit in their eyes."

"And what part of fairness…"

"Your Excellency," Abebech spoke. She looked _stunning_ in her full dress uniform. And a little bit like a dictator herself. "Since the Melian Dialogue of Thucydides one can hardly say that fairness has been an important calculation in the affairs of state. What I can say is that my Government is more reasonable than most. The Tarnovo Constitution of Bulgaria, which your people still celebrate, was not the constitution of an independent state. It was the constitution of a Suzerainty of the Ottoman Empire, the Principality of Bulgaria. It was nonetheless freedom, and independence followed thirty years later."

"You know our history very well, Commander," he offered, brought up short. "You are… Correct. Do you think the Turians would accept the terms in the Tarnovo Constitution?"

"You might start with that as your negotiating position," Abebech answered, "but it's hardly my place to say more."

The suite they entered had two sets of tables laid out, one with food for Turians, one for the rest. The hospitality staff was at attention.

Zhen'var gave a single nod of approval to the assembled staff, and spun to present herself at the entrance, waiting for the Turians. Her people had been coming together well, and the captain made a mental note to get them at least some on-ship liberty in the coming days if this all worked out, in the end.

Abebech had peeled off to return to the transporter room. She came back ten minutes later, leading General Keranus. "General Keranus, Commander, 82nd Combined Heavy-Assault Korps and 82nd Support Assault Taskgroup, Turian Hegemony. General, presenting to you Captain Zhen'var and Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez of the _Huáscar,_ and President Ivan Alferov and Foreign Minister Noburo Shiba of the Confederal Republic of Drachenfeldt." She bowed punctiliously.

"General." Zhen'var stiffened her spine and saluted reflexively, internally cursing herself for it immediately after The Turians were still a 'friendly' ally, after all, and it wasn't her they were here to negotiate with.

"Captain." He looked to President Alferov and Minister Shiba. "If you gentlemen would sit," he gestured to the table. "Our kind hosts from the Alliance are trying to find common ground for us. I admit the Captain's resolve is impressive in this matter. Captain, you and your officers of course should join us."

 _A Dilgar as a diplomat. Will wonders never cease?_ She moved to sit, after the delegation from the planet and the Turian force. What was to come would be intensely delicate, even now. All she had done was give it a _chance_.

"Our combined peoples have fought the Nazi regime for centuries of resistance, both in active combat and passive resistance, as circumstances dictated," Minister Shiba began, rising. "You have suffered greatly in liberating the Reich from the Nazi Tyranny, and we respect that suffering from the Turian Hegemony, and the effort and treasure expended which without worlds like Drachenfeldt would be without result. However, the reality is that we have spent centuries under their groaning yoke. We are pleased to accept the assistance of our allies, but remember that we are your allies."

"Here are the troops fighting on the ground," the Bulgarian Aide-de-Camp to the President stepped forward in his crisp green and white uniform and brought up the holographic projections of the hard fighting in the capital that was still ongoing, tanks brake-steering on the street and firing into buildings as disruptor fire stuttered across buildings, aerials flying the National Tricolour of the BNC as men in camo hunched down in the tenuous cover of the back of the turret, wearing repainted Nazi helmets or in some cases, just bandanas wrapped around the forehead.

The Turians leaned forward in professional interest. After they had watched to their satisfaction, the image changed to one of Rejuvenation Society troops driving toward the capital in heavy articulated mining trucks formed into long convoys, shouting Banzai and thrusting their rifles into the air as the amazed Bulgarians in the towns near the capitol watched them go. "Our forces are under unified control and fighting for unfiied purposes," Shiba said simply. "We in fact already have the situation well in hand, though the Defence Ministry is pleased to work directly with you to assist in the deployment of your troops. These _Werwolf_ elements can be quickly suppressed at that point."

"You are are very eager for cooperation, and it is good." Keranus stroked his mandibles. "Of course, you think or speak little of the fact you should be citizens of the Hierarchy. In principle I have no difficulty operating with your improvised forces."

"The matter is one of our cultural development, General," President Alferov faced him squarely. "We are prepared to accept a relationship with the Turian Hegemony, that is not in dispute. However, for the sake of our long and continuous resistance to the Nazi Tyranny, we want the autonomy for the cultural development of our peoples. I trust that you are not an unreasonable man. Are we to become soft-skinned Turians? Surely it's ridiculous for humans to live by your laws, but we are not a conquered people, you have just admitted that."

General Keranus rocked back a bit, and then chuckled. "So I have, it does seem." He flicked an eye to the ramrod straight soldiers of the two Armies. "Two separate military forces, one for each of your peoples."

"Yes, but coordinated by a single ministry," Shiba explained.

"We will coordinate operations with that ministry and allow your forces to keep order over your own people. I can easily offer that."

"General, what we need is a permanent agreement covering our relationship with the Hegemony," Alferov answered.

"We _have_ a proposal," Shiba added, and then, with a flourish, presented it, translated into Turian already. "Though it makes allowances for the nature of our confederal Republic, you will find it adapts to the practical position of Suzerainty the Hierarchy shall hold, and is based on the famous old Bulgarian Tarnovo Constitution. We are familiar with its principles and all agreed to be prepared to follow it."

General Keranus held the document for a moment. He didn't read it, he just regarded the two men. "You're going to fight if you don't get this," he said simply.

"We are free peoples and we won our freedom ourselves. We are prepared to work with you, but it does not change that we are nations in arms who keep our own honour, General."

Keranus looked sharply at Shiba and said nothing. He handed the document to one of his subordinates. Then, finally, he looked to Zhen'var. "Captain, I need secure facilities for consulting with my government."

* * *

An hour later, General Keranus returned to the conference suite. When he did, one of his Aides started to go over the proposed constitution line for line. What followed was eight hours of debate that crystalized in the following agreement: The Confederation of Drachenfeldt will be under Turian Protection, but fully independent internally; the mines will operate under Turian law and trade regimes, but the joint ownership arrangement between the Bulgarians and Japanese will be recognised. The Turians will directly annex and rule those areas 100% German in ethnic character. The militaries of the two halves of the Confederation would remain separate and coordinated by the Ministry of the Confederation, and the Confederation would still share the Capital with the Turian Governor's administration, the capital district being separate from both the Turian occupational districts and the Confederation and under its own autonomous municipal administration.

In that, Zhen'var could see parallels to Chandigarh, the famous planned city of horrifying architecture and capital to two states while belonging to neither-though at least Saackenweld would never be quite so horrible looking. Still, as she listened, and they concurred on sending the details of the final loose protectorate to the British Stellar Union for adjudication, she could feel a real sense of sincerity in both the Turian and Confederal representatives. Some of the decisions were odd, and sometimes they were clearly unhappy. Nonetheless, it was real diplomacy at work.

Before they had finished, the Turians had already received permission to begin landing troops, and Zhen'var mercifully got the updates from Fei'nur that their arrival, along with reinforcements, had immediately turned the tide in the city. Now it would just be days until they could withdraw fully and hand the planet over to the Republic and the Turians.

Finishing late in the evening, Keranus smiled, a glittering, dangerous thing as a Turian smile was. "You are lucky, President Alferov, to have such an excellent Alliance advocate in the form of Captain Zhen'var. And thank you for your hospitality, Captain."

"You are welcome. I believe I have merely represented the best principles of the Alliance."

"Perhaps you have, Captain. I am thankful to come to a fair agreement, though Drachenfeldt will certainly mean more work than we had originally thought. President, Minister." He saluted.

After Keranus left, Alferov stepped close to Zhen'var, and then paused, an uncomfortable look on his face before it became a faint smile. "I confess I am very thankful for your wisdom, Captain. I did not know what to expect when aliens arrived, but you stood up for us as other humans would not. You will always be welcome on Drachenfeldt."

"Thank you, Your Excellency, though it was as much the wisdom of my crew. I think you will find the prospects for advancement and recovery for your people much improved with your relationship with the Turians. We might have suffered for it, together, but there is very little which we are not glad for, giving you the chance to find yourselves after the long night after the Nazi Reich."

Shiba bowed. "Your people will inspire us, Captain. Regeneration will, in time, come."

* * *

Nah'dur's sickbay was carefully configured to make patients as comfortable as possible. She had obtained holographic displays for the walls which displayed calming scenes and provided patients with headsets to play calming music. All of it was based on research into the psychology of healing, and the woman neglected nothing in the preparation of food and monitoring of patients.

It all felt a little overdone to James. He still felt like crap from the multiple broken ribs, though he was due to be released soon. The fighting had ended in the capital and on the planet generally after Rejuvenation Society reinforcements and the first tranche of Turian troops had arrived. He had remained in action in command of his platoon for twenty-two hours after his ribs had been broken, and still felt pretty much like ass, but with the painkillers in him he was sure it was fatigue by now.

His commander walked through the door, still in her field BDUs, though bereft of armour. "Hey, Bikie." Sarah Travis rubbed at her face. "Wanted to come see you before I hit the shower. And everyone else."

"Ugh, the Surgeon-Commander hasn't told me how many we got in here, boss," he sighed and squirmed and a bit. "All pulled back from the planet?"

"Naw, we've still got one company at Apraxin and another Company on special tasking with the Colonel personally, but all the security peeps have been recalled. We have the worst casualties though so we ended up going back up with security."

"How many?" He asked tightly.

"Six dead, thirty-three in sickbay."

"Christ, that's rough. SS tossers."

"I hope it's the last time we ever fight these damn Nazis," she agreed. "Look, I'm sorry about Corporal Tucker. You guys did good, got your job done… And I'm sorry he didn't pull through."

"Unfortunately, it isn't the first time I've seen it happen. But if it's the last time it's with these shits… Good enough, I guess. I thought this goddamned war was supposed to be over."

"When has it ever been that easy, I guess, right?"

"In hell, right next to the unicorns and lollypops."

* * *

The Turian troops had been conveyed to the surface, and the _Huáscar_ was in the process of recovering her own equipment. As part of her ongoing effort to reach out to the woman, Abebech had agreed to a private weekly dinner with Zhen'var, and arrived in mufti, a gracious but heavy green dress with traditional African patterns on the fringe and full length opera gloves, though her hair still aggressively pulled back to the point it looked like it had to hurt. The woman apparently, in the fullness of her own time, went decidedly classy at all costs.

Zhen'var might be the first Dilgar to choose a sari as her semi-formal clothing when she was in mufti, and she smiled to Imra. "Good evening… would you prefer your rank or your name in _this_ particular setting?"

"You can call me Abebech, Captain. It _is_ my name. I mean, the one I was given when I was born. I know there's been some idle speculation on that, but I came in to the service cleanly." She smiled faintly. "Thank you for the consideration."

"You _do_ intimidate most of our subordinates, Abebech. You may call me Zhen'var in private. That _is_ my name, as much as propaganda from the world I was born on disagrees… or emphasizes, depending on the source."

Abebech chuckled. "I would never think otherwise, Zhen'var. Your name is a reflection of who you are and an expression of belonging. For me, what I belong to is not really here anymore, so I cherish it all the more, but that's beside the point. Why would a Dilgar not wish to cherish her clan? You are Var, and I, at least, think you have something to be proud of in that."

The Dilgar woman's smile froze for a moment, before she shook her head with a smile. "Thank you for that. On Earth, it was rarely so friendly, but now, my people and yourself… all accept that I am of a two woman clan, and that is that." She took a sip of her wine with a still-pleased expression. "Anyhow, it was very fortunate the Nazis attacked when they did. It would have been much harder to give everyone a remotely acceptable ending otherwise."

"Well, you're quite right. The Nazis would have, attacking as the Turians arrived, turned themselves into leaders of a resistance movement." She smiled tightly. "Of course, we have comms evidence that suggests they thought the Turians had already arrived. The fog of war causes such things for our enemy as well as ourselves."

There was a flash in Zhen'var's eyes, as they widened sharply for a moment. "I… see. It is to our benefit they made such an error, then. It _has_ ended very well."

"We are in the business of solving problems, Captain, and I believe we have done so in a way that will win us commendation from our commanders," Abebech replied, looking idly at her own wine, or presumably so, from the angle of her opaque sunglasses.

"Well, you will be recommended for about three kinds of promotion when your next performance review crosses my desk, so do not think you will get out of eventually having to deal with things like this yourself. And I _told_ you to call me by my name." She finished with a smile, amused at her attacker commander's reaction, and starting to wonder just what hidden depths Abech Imra held.

"Zhen'var, apologies. I am rather formal, but I suspect you noticed." Her lips quirked into a hint of a smile.

"That we compete to be the best dressed woman in the room in civilian clothes has, in fact, crossed my mind, among other things. Now, just what mixture of raw meat have you come up with this time, and can I make it with pork? I find my tastes have shifted quite impressively."

"I'm willing to try _anything_ raw. For example there's an excellent German dish of raw minced pork, that one is fine indeed. Shall we…?"

"Oh, let us _indeed_ , though I am sure my mother would roll her eyes and tell me that cooking was invented for a reason."

"It was, but it wasn't my reason," Abebech replied slyly. "Merciful God, but I find myself very grateful for your acquaintance," she remarked as she keyed in the replicator. "For the most part, I enjoy serving under you because you are, indeed, a woman after my own heart."

"I, in turn, think you should be at least a Captain of the Line, and am starting to have my suspicions confirmed, that you are… full of unexpected skills, Abebech. I intend to do my utmost to ensure the Alliance has a chance to make use of them."

"We'll see if the Alliance wants me in that role. In the meantime, I am pleased to be an expert of practice in my current profession, and your assistant. There is something to be said for the opportunity to mentor the young officers around me, as well, without an elevated position that would constrain my abilities. I have sought promotion, I do admit, and so far I have not received it to a further level, and was instead assigned to _Huáscar._ But if I am here awhile, it will be fine. Captain, I am not the kind of person who lusts for glory and fame. If I may do right in a Commander's rate, it is fine enough. I should like to think my character carries through."

"It does. That is why I am recommending you for promotion. Still, enough about that. Now, did any of those young officers stand out in the last action…?" Lapsing back into familiar, comfortable topics, Zhen'var found herself content with what she'd started to carve out with Abebech Imra.

* * *

They were about two days out from departure with the Turians settling down on the surface to the new arrangement with the Confederal Republic. Anna was drinking yet another mug of coffee as she sat in a sync meeting with flight operations. "So, the last issue right now is basically magazine handling arrangements with the spacecraft munition stores?" She used the table interface to generate the appropriate prints.

"That's correct, Commander," Lar'shan answered, glancing to Stasia. "Chief?"

"So, the problem is the anti-flash gasket. The autonomous handling carts can't go over it, which means it's a three person job to shift ammunition from the primary handling robot in the hoist to the cart. We need some way to make the autonomous carts go over the gasket."

"How much does it interfere with the takt time of the ammunition loading procedure? I'm going to be honest," Anna stretched and reached for her mug, "my automatic first response to someone suggesting we change ammunition handling arrangements is 'no'."

"Oh, don't worry, ma'am," Stasia replied from her own mug. "I _completely_ agree with you there. We can't accept anything that will damage the gasket… What's takt time again?"

"Oh, but I thought that was a word from your world."

"It is, but I'm a marine watch officer by experience, not a design engineer, which is who I think uses it," Stasia blushed. "Also I came up the hard way, not through one of the Maritime Academies."

"You're smarter because of it," Lar'shan offered.

"Thanks, I think." Stasia flashed a grin to the Dilgar pilot.

"Takt time is how fast it should be taking to handle one bomb to keep up with arming demand, in this scenario," Anna explained gently. "So, I'm asking what the delta is between the the current time to process a bomb rack from the mag and what we need to keep up with the ability of the armourers to actually load the craft in the strike wing."

"Oh, uh," Lar'shan and Stasia conferred, making a couple of calculations. They were both more comfortable with notepads for those than anything else.

Stasia looked up. "Eleven seconds. Two for each pass, two more for the extra time than the lift and set motions are split, and five for the handling robot turning around in a tighter space."

"Eleven seconds per bomb rack, four bomb racks on a fighter-bomber, but divide by eight handling hoists for the entire wing, and then we've got the bombers too. Yeah, we need to fix this. For the fighter-bombers alone it adds six minutes and forty seconds to the arming operation for the wing." Anna sighed. _One more thing to do._

"Any solutions?" Lar'shan asked, pleased the Cheng had agreed with him.

"Not enough coffee for that," Anna replied. "I miss Hargert's _Milchkaffee,_ speaking of. Why don't we have a civilian café onboard? In all seriousness, I'm going to appoint a PDT with Lieutenant Kerrain in charge and I'll closely supervise them. Once we have a solution we'll test it in the holodeck through say ten thousand loading cycles to make sure it isn't damaging the gaskets and we should have it deployed within two weeks, tops."

"The _Aurora_ had a _civilian café_?" Lar'shan stared.

"Yes it did," Stasia answered. "Something like twenty actual factual civilians onboard, no uniforms, not warrants, not enlisted, not officers, not police, freaking civvies. But Hargert's food was so good, who cares? There was a big craving for non-replicated home cooking and some place to hang out like you were on leave, in fact inside the café off-base rules applied like you weren't even aboard ship."

"That's so strange," Lar'shan answered. "But I suppose it's merely a quirk of the _Aurora._ "

"No, it isn't," Anna interjected. "We're _supposed_ to have a civilian café onboard. In fact, our MTOE has _fourteen_ civilians in it: Four engineering technical specialists, two psychotherapy and specialist medicine doctors, two non-uniformed religious officiants or priests as a contingency for religious faiths which don't allow uniformed chaplains, and _six_ 'hospitality staff' for our café. And right now we don't have _any_ of them, and neither any Chaplains, though the _Aurora_ didn't either. Setting up an interfaith Chaplain service, it turns out, is hard and politically complicated, and low priority in the middle of a major war for frankly stupid reasons since Chaplains are important for morale, but the end result is it's been ad-hoc and mostly in the Army."

"I get the feeling Captain Zhen'var doesn't _want_ any of those civilian billets filled, as an aside," Stasia added.

"You're absolutely right," Anna smiled tightly. "This is the woman who restricts the holodecks to training, equipment testing, and time-limited rewards for exemplary ideas and work. 'Good job, you're authorized an hour in the holodeck' is not something I thought I'd be saying on a regular basis, but..."

"Yep. She's using 'em exactly like a Hollywood shower on a submarine back home," Stasia grinned.

"Exactly. Speaking of which have I mentioned that bathing is the most wonderful thing we have?" Anna smiled brightly and Lar'shan rolled his eyes.

"Well, ladies," he offered a moment later, "it sounds like you both _want_ such a café."

"Yes," they chorused.

"Perhaps we could go to Commander Atreiad together about it."

"You don't think the Captain would veto it?" Stasia blinked.

"I should think not, she was the one who started delegating, and the Commander is in charge of personnel billets. I'll schedule an appointment this afternoon," Lar'shan offered.

Anna frowned. "Sure, but part of the charm is Hargert. I'd hate for this to, I don't know, go to open bid, and we're stuck with some mega-chain from one of the big Republics."

"I have an idea," Stasia offered. "I know a Bulgarian girl who really needs a job, and a family who could really use some help…"

* * *

Three hours later, they were all sitting in Will's office, and explaining the idea to him. "So you already have someone in mind, too?" Will looked up.

"Her name is Alexandra Antonova Tambovna, and she previously worked as a secretary for the local Gestapo, I know I know, but what can you say?" Stasia gestured. "I certainly don't mind. She's a smart cook and hard worker, but not really cut for the fisherwoman's trade. Her family also could use a renewed source of hard currency instead of another hand on the trawler. Bulgarian food is great, everyone will love _shashlik_. Except me, but I love _tsatsa_."

"We're going to need the full food service complement to operate the café. Let her hire other people from Drachenfeldt who need jobs?" Will asked, bringing up a document and scanning it on his terminal.

"I believe that makes sense," Lar'shan offered, "though I suppose they couldn't be German."

"Well, maybe if we subjected them to extreme vetting, but it would be kind of ridiculous to have an SS plant. Still, we can advertise. Definitely Bulgarian or Japanese volunteers. This is going to be a very risky job, you know. There's a reason the Captain doesn't like it at all."

"Well, yes, on the _Aurora_ the civilians had to fight during the … Incident that left her heavily damaged," Anna phrased it carefully. Large parts of that were still classified. "On the other hand, it's a matter of naval policy."

"Yeah, you're right. All right. Two days to arrange recruiting and procuring equipment in-though I imagine you can fab most of that, right, Anna?"

"Yes, kitchen equipment will be an odd interlude for the machine shop, that's all."

"All right then." Will smiled at Stasia's grin. "You can go ahead and tell Miss Tambovna that she has a job, if she wants one."

"And the Captain?" Lar'shan asked.

"Oh, this is my bailiwick." He rubbed his head. "And you all owe me for it."

* * *

It was about thirty minutes before they were due to leave orbit of Drachenfeldt when Will stepped down into the main cargo hold section of the engineering hull. He had just finished talking to the Captain about his authorisation of the café two days before, and suddenly having civilians onboard, and now he knew his headache was about to get worse. He was standing in front of Colonel Fei'nur, and to be honest, the woman, who ranked him even though he was the XO (Abebech did too, which made his position especially weird), remained as intimidating as hell. They'd spoken occasionally outside of professional moments and staff meetings, and he got the feeling that he rated somewhat better than most other humans in her eyes from his colonial background, but that didn't help much.

He was a lot younger, for starters. But this, this… "Colonel, I understand you pulled rank to use the cargo transporters to completely fill Hold Eight, with three two hundred and fifty tonne beam-ups. Would you mind explaining what the heck you were doing?"

She looked down at him, her expression inscrutable as she processed the request. "Yes." the Dilgar woman replied, flatly.

Will ran a hand in his hair and stared for a moment. A long moment. "Okay, Colonel, I respect that. Really. But it's my job to handle cargo space allocation on this ship. What are you _doing_ in Hold Eight? I mean, you just beamed _seven hundred and fifty tons_ onto the ship."

"Rectifying deficiencies in the Marine contingent, Commander." Fei'nur always spoke in an intensely clipped, accented voice when she did not want to answer questions, and this was _clearly_ one of those times. "The allocation shall be permanent. I will require additional volume within Hold Eight as well, with additional life-support resources."

"Colonel… Is there anyone you're going to explain this to?" A pained expression flickered across Will's face. _This is pretty much the most bluntly disrespectful she's ever been. What in Hades is going on?_

Fei'nur gave him a lingering sharp look, before finally turning quickly on a heel. "Follow me, Commander." She started walking without waiting for a response.

He fell in with a shake of his head. "I mean, if you just want to tell Captain Zhen'var, you can, Colonel."

"It will be difficult to conceal. We are requisitioning use of Engineering staff for securing anchors." She had a quick military pace, and there were _sentries_ before the bay - she leaned down for the retinal scan of a hastily-fitted security lock, stepping in to the cavernous bay. A smile stole across her face as she glanced behind her. "I am very proud of our new Three Sisters, you know."

Will stared. Then he stared again. "I, uh… I can see why." Three super-heavy SS "Lowe" Panzers were sitting cheek to jowl in Cargo Hold Eight. "...Very well, Colonel, carry on."

"I will _not_ let my people be out-gunned ever again, Commander. I have requested another company from the Union to allow me to fill out a complete battalion with additional salvaged heavy weapons. They and their equipment should fill the rest of the bay, once sections of the remainder are converted to troop quarters."

"Well, for our peace-keeping mission…" He grinned mirthlessly. "It actually makes sense. Carry on, Colonel. And sorry I bothered you."

"You were carrying out your duty." Fei'nur gave a nod, and moved further into the bay, inspecting the work carried out so far.

* * *

They were warping away from Drachenfeldt and toward the occupied Earth they had fought so hard to conquer from the Nazi regime, and then from there toward whatever their next mission would be. Elia took the time to send a message to Zhen'var asking for permission to join her for dinner that night.

She'd dashed back a quick agreement, then, and would be reading a book on her small couch in her quarters when the door chime sounded. "Come in!"

"Thank you, Captain," Elia said, stepping inside and waiting for the door to close. Once it did, she grinned. "Did I ever mention, Zhen'var, that getting to hang out with you makes my day happier? Because it totally does."

"I do not need to tell you that it does the same to I, Elia. Sit, please. What is on the agenda for today, hm?"

"Sitting down? Listening to Rihannsu classical music that Arterus loaned to me?" Elia sighed dramatically as she settled into a chair. "Alas, but there is a bit more than that. So." A wry grin. "Drachenfeldt. Can you believe people weren't shooting at each other when we left?"

"Well, come on, sit, and put on the music. Then we shall discuss Drachenfeldt, which worked out as well as I could _dare_ to hope."

"Ooh, as usual, the answer might be to the effect of 'both'," Elia laughed, and put the music on. "Do you feel," she asked after that, "that perhaps the way the situation resolved itself was a little bit.. Weird? I mean, the way the Nazis attacked at more or less the worst possible time… For them."

"Yes. I think… I think that Imra may be more than she appears to be, if you will permit. We had a very _interesting_ conversation two nights ago."

"I'm going to bear that carefully in mind… Zhen'var, you do know she's a telepath, right? It would be hard for her to keep it a secret from me, of course, and I don't think she really tries, but she doesn't advertise it either. Has she told you?"

"She admitted it when I asked, at least. She does not really try to hide it, as you said. The woman is… full of hidden depths. I think she, by all rights, should be commanding this ship, Elia."

"I think you should, Zhen'var," Elia answered, "but she should probably have her own different ship. Or fleet. But despite that… I don't know. I think she… Meddled, when it came to the SS attack. It's too convenient, and I understand that you had … Talked to her about it."

"I back my officers when they exercise initiative, and I do not think she would act with ill-will to us, Elia. I would _like_ to think, perhaps, we may have a strange friendship if we have more conversations like that." Zhen'var murmured, shaking her head slightly.

"I wish I was her friend," Elia admitted after a moment. "I've been suspicious of her, but I think it's mostly that I want to be friends with another telepath. But she doesn't really want to be my friend …. I think."

"Be honest with her. I get the impression that she appreciates directness, and will… perhaps not give a full account, but will explain, at least partially. I am sorry the Mha'dorn are… not quite the same? I do not… _truly_ understand the details, only intellectually, but I do think that she… believes she acts for the best interests of the crew and those around her."

"The Mha'dorn keep me on this ship, Zhen'var, I have good friends among them. I don't want to give the wrong impression. I was just raised to see consensus with other human telepaths as an important part of my life. I _can_ subsume myself in a gestalt of Dilgar, and I _have._ I still feel a craving to be Abebech's friend, though. Please don't get me wrong, Zhen'var… Truth be told, some of it might be that I make friends with Dilgar better than humans at this point, so I wonder if I can ever really be myself in the company of other human telepaths again."

"No, I _understand_ , Elia. Mother and Father, yes? I do not have the same experiences, but I know what an unconventional family is like…. And socialization. We are _quite_ the pair of misfits sometimes, are we not?"

"It's why we're best friends, Captain. And that's why I'm going to trust you with Abebech." She reached out, and through a gloved hand, squeezed one of Zhen'var's.

"Thank you, Elia… now, let us listen to Romulan-Rihannsu?-music? Or was there something else work-related, my friend?"

"No, that was it, and it was probably silly. I mostly want to snuggle." She flushed a bit, but it didn't alter the sentiment.

"Creche for you, boarding school for me? We will have to watch more Bollywood, you know. Perhaps some of the new Dilgar musicals, they have a sort of quirky low-budget charm to them?" Hugging her friend, her _best_ friend, Zhen'var grinned widely.

"Oh, brilliant. We're now planning to watch low budget movies together. Yes, let's." _Friendship is always a worthy triumph._

 **Tag**

The _Huáscar_ was tasting virgin space, and the _Heermann_ was the point of the spear. In her career in the Alliance Stellar Forces, Abebech Imra had not done exploration before. In fact, she really hadn't done it at all. Her career had been a decided bloody one, and there was no use dwelling on that.

This was the _Huáscar_ 's first trip to a completely new universe, on her originally designed exploration duty. Ahead of her was the version of Earth in this universe, now designated M5G8. There had already been Dilgar grumbling about that. The strange way that humans seemed blessed to live in every universe, and aliens were relegated to the universe they had evolved in - just one.

Abebech had some idea why, but she couldn't exactly share it with anyone, and the usefully relevant details were lost in the murk of deep time, anyway, even with her connections. And they were already picking up interesting readings from the planet. "Goodenough?"

"... _Massively_ anomalous mass signatures in orbit, Captain." He chuckled faintly at his own formulation. "Try hundreds of spacedock-sized, but less dense, objects, and there are entire clouds of sensor interference-space debris, most likely."

"...Hundreds? Debris enough to jam our sensors?" Abebech stared at the screen, pursing gloved hands in front of her and folding her legs. "Bring us out of warp at a distance and maintain cloak, helm."

"Aye aye, Captain," Ca'elia answered from her post, the smartly put together Dilgar smoothly bringing the _Heermann_ out earlier than planned.

"Full passive sensor sweeps."

"Resolving…" Goodenough implemented the scans.

As he did, Abdulmehmet shouted from his own tactical position. "Captain! There are weapons signatures considering with a major engagement - energy weapons - near a large asteroid at the L-5 point."

"Are there… Goodenough? Are you able to image the anomalies yet?"

"On screen now, Captain."

The image that flashed into view was something she immediately recognised.

"A hab!" Ca'elia shouted. "Just like the Aururian ones."

"So it is, L'tenant," Abebech agreed softly. "So it is. 'Hundreds'... Get me that asteroid in L-5, please."

The image shifted. Fire swept across the flanks from vessels too small to see, hotly engaged with each other. Abebech watched it, watched it… And jerked sharply in her chair. "Get the _Huáscar,_ emergency priority. This is turning into a first contact like no other. And lay in a course for that position at maximum warp."

"Captain, we do not have orders to intervene," Goodenough reminded her, formally.

Abebech seemed entranced in her chair. Her XO had certainly never seen her like that before. "Just get me closer. Under cloak. I need to _see_ what's going on."


	12. Episode 3 Act 1 - Intro

_**Introduction**_

"I still do not understand why you insisted on dragging me here, Nah'dur. The replicator already has so _many_ options…" Fei'nur's voice had almost a hint of a planitive sound to it as she glanced about the room, almost disturbingly large for a warship.

"Yes, but it's a chance for us to _socialise._ Together. In public. Also, this woman cooks authentic Bulgarian food," Nah'dur answered eagerly, traipsing up to the bar, which was finished with freshly planed lumber from Drachenfeldt, as were the barstools. The lights were dim, to accentuate the local pub atmosphere and make stargazing better, since of course the Café Varna was one of the only places on the ship with real windows (Prifly, the astrogation domes, and a couple of hangar control stations being the others).

The woman behind the counter was Alexandra herself, dressed in traditional Bulgarian national costume. She came over promptly, carrying a basket, which she slammed onto the bar. It was filled with breaded whole little fishes which immediately smelled _utterly delicious;_ one thing that replicators had real (rather than imagined) trouble with was the taste of deep fried food fresh out of the deep fryer. "Fish." She looked at the two Dilgar woman, insisting on using her own voice and the English she'd started to learn instead of a universal translator. "Dilgar like fish. Order beers? Bourgas 63?"

"Yes, I'll have some _rakija,_ " Nah'dur answered, and picked up one of the fish carcasses. The deep-fryed sprat melted in her mouth, and her eyes lit up in delight at the flavour, leaving her to exhale in happiness. "Now that's _good,_ Fei'nur, try it."

Fei'nur gave Nah'dur a look, and picked up one of them carefully, throwing it back with a wary expression, before her face _lit_ with delight. "This is just like karfi back home! A beer, yes, strongest you have!" With the smile still plastered on her face, she went for another, looking all together more carefree than Nah'dur had ever seen her.

"Good," Alexandra answered. "Menus." She tossed them on the ample bar in front of the two women, and headed off to get their drinks.

"So this is kind of like karfi?" Nah'dur asked, fascinated.

A moment later, Alexandra deposited their beer and a brandy snifter-sized glass of clear liquid, before heading back into the kitchen to deal with someone else's order.

"A bit. Somewhat less salty, there was something in the sauce back home it doesn't _quite_ capture, but it's closer than anything I thought I'd taste again!"

"That's so nifty. It's always made me sad to think we've lost the flavours of Omelos." She ate a few more, smiling, and trying her rakija. Dilgar had been drinkers _before_ Omelos was destroyed, a lot of the survivors had become functional alcoholics since then, though Dilgar were somewhat more resistant to alcoholism as a disease that destroyed functionality than humans, they also tended to be more susceptible to coping through it. Nah'dur knew all of this and didn't really care, it tasted good.

The menus laid out before them offered an immense selection of meat. Meat plates. Fish plates. _'Meat kompot'._ Shashlik.

Fei'nur knew that this would be both disastrous for her needs to exercise _and_ her flexible spending account… and right now, she didn't care, as she looked for whatever plate offered her the best variety and largest total portion.

"Look, there's a meat _plank,_ " Nah'dur pointed on the menu. "I'm going to try, uhh, …"

"Plank. Gods, this _is_ just like when we blew the Emperor's Birthday bonus pay on leave that one year..."

"Plank?" Alexandra heard them and came over with a pad for taking down their orders. "You order the meat plank?" She asked Fei'nur.

" _Yes_." The grizzled Colonel replied with a wide, almost child-like grin. "And another beer."

"Good." A baleful eye looked to the much smaller Dilgar woman. "Eat more meat? Grow? Yes?"

"Uhh, yes! Kebapche."

"Kebapche. Good." Satisfied, Alexandra wandered back to the kitchen.

"...Worth it, Fei'nur?" Nah'dur looked satisfied, and not at all bothered by the terse proprietor.

"Depends on the slab." Fei'nur winked and sipped at her glass again. "We'd need more concrete to get a bar on Omelos, back then. Too much metal for where I grew up." She paused, for a moment. "Also too much meat, to be honest."

"Nobody could afford it in the old Empire days. Well, mother did growing up, but that was a special case."

"Your mother's clan _owned a meat-processing and ranching conglomerate."_ The _look_ that Nah'dur got in turn matched the sarcasm in the older Dilgar's voice. "Now that we have a _restaurant_ , this ship is basically a noble's yacht… not that I mind."

"Well, you deserve it." Nah'dur finished her Bourgas 63 and leaned in her barstool against Fei'nur's shoulder.

Alexandra arrived, grinning. She slammed the meat platter down in front of Fei'nur. It had some kind of sausage that was curled into a spiral, around three other sausages, each of a different kind, a grilled chicken breast, a pork cutlet, and a massive stick of the characteristic shashlik, with meat and onions and a few other vegetables. Nah'dur's Kebapche consisted of a mix of sausage-shaped minced meat paste forms and a single patty of the same type. A bowl of garnish for them to share followed.

"I think I'm going to like you, Miss Alexandra." Avaricious eyes looked to her plate, as she reached for her tableware.

"Thank you, Colonel Fei'nur! _Salut_!" She grinned cheerfully and headed off to another customer.

Kebapche, Nah'dur quickly discovered, was _superb._ "Gods, Fei'nur. Whatever else, this woman _cooks._ "

Fei'nur gave the young woman she'd helped raise a funny look. "What else would you want from a _chef_?"

"...I don't know?" Nah'dur rubbed her nose against Fei'nur's shoulder. "Glad you came with me, my strong?"

Fei'nur's response at least sounded positive, around the sausage she was consuming with relish.

With a bright expression on her own face, Nah'dur responded by cheerfully tucking in and enjoying dinner. She also got closer and closer to Fei'nur until she was pressed into the bigger woman, making soft noises from time to time.

" _Nah'dur._ " Came from the taller woman, in a warning tone.

"Yess?" Nah'dur looked up, batting her eyes. "I like you, what's the harm in being close?"

" _Boundaries before the crew, Surgeon-Commander."_

Nah'dur sighed and pulled back. "Another Bourgas, Miss Alexandra…" Her Omnitool chirped insistently, at the same time Fei'nur's did.

"Oh, bother." Nah'dur glanced up. "Well, at least we finished our plates. Sorry, Miss Alexandra! So much for that!" It was a message from the Captain, and she wanted them both at an emergency staff meeting in ten minutes.

"I shall return to this place again." Fei'nur was already up and moving, speaking into her omnitool, alerting her duty officers to get the Marines shaken out for possible action.

Nah'dur remained in place for a minute longer, watching Fei'nur's muscles through her uniform. Only when she had swished past the doors did the Surgeon-Commander follow her out.

 **Undiscovered Frontier** _ **Origins**_ **: Case Armageddon**

 **Season 1, Episode 3**

 **Act One**

Another day, another staff meeting. This time, of course, it was on an emergency basis, and people were paying attention as they came in, for it might mean they would shortly be in action. The crew of the _Heermann_ was not present, being on forward reconnaissance, nor was Lar'shan, prepping to launch in the CAP rotation. Everyone else arrived as instructed.

"Good morning, everyone. Time is short, so I shall keep this brief. Commander Imra has reported this universe's Earth appears to be in the midst of a catastrophic civil war. Long-range sensors indicate the planet has undergone mass driver or kinetic bolide bombardment, and there are multiple fleet units engaged throughout the inner system. She is keeping close watch on the situation, but we are moving in ourselves. The situation, from a standpoint of sentient well-being, appears catastrophic."

Elia stepped up to Zhen'var's side, bringing up the briefing documents on the solar system, and then focusing on Earth. She did not apologise for the roughness, they all knew that there had been very little time to prepare these. "Earth-space in this universe is defined by a series of large anomalies at the Lagrange points, in some cases in two discrete clusters." A close-up flashed onto the screen.

"Prototypical open-type O'Neill Cylinders in coupled pairs to prevent progression." The image flashed in closer. Elia's facial expression was wooden and grim. "As you can see, this colony in particular is massively rent by energy weapons fire. By definition that means we are looking at twenty million people who are either dead or homeless. There are large debris fields at the majority of the Lagrange points. _Heermann_ 's latest sensor data suggest debris consistent with about only half of the colonies this Earth built still being intact. Based on the number.. A conservative estimate is five billion fatalities. Earth itself we do not have solid data for, but is showing coherent symptoms of nuclear winter." She flashed into the next part of the deck. "Major weapons signatures … Most vessels are in the two hundred and fifty meter class, so destroyer sized, but we are reading fleets of hundreds."

"I have already forwarded the initial report and a request for support to higher command, but we can expect to be on our own resources for some time. We _will_ be in action, and I want all hands to know this, and what is at stake." Zhen'var looked just as severe.

Daria nodded crisply. "Captain, Commander, understood. Do we have any information on their weapons or manoeuvring?"

"None yet, Lieutenant," Elia answered. "Hopefully Commander Imra will find that out, but not the hard way."

Anna laughed softly. She had seen enough, grown up hard enough, to know a little levity was important in the moment. "We often have, in the Alliance Navy. Captain, do we prioritize operational conditions for life-saving and humanitarian aid or direct combat? It seems like, for all the damage we have detected, the nations of this world are still in main combat."

"Direct combat. We will not have the ability to provide aid and save lives until the shooting is over. We cannot fight _that_ many ships to a standstill on our own."

"Then we should maintain full ZEBRA from the moment we arrive in close Earth space. Commander Saumarez, if you can send me any sensor information at all we may be able to do an engineering analysis and route it to tactical in time to be useful."

"Of course, Commander. Fera'Xero, if you could work with Engineering on that?"

"Certainly, El'sau." The Quarian seemed bemused by something, and Elia grinned at being called by her Dilgar name by a non-Dilgar.

"Captain?" Arterus asked. "What _is_ the protocol for responding to this kind of utterly destructive war in a pre-interstellar civilisation? Do we have any general orders to guide our operational objectives?"

"We do. We are to end the mass killing, with whatever means we have to hand. Massive military casualties are one thing, non-combatants dying as this is quite another. Expect that we _will_ be in heavy action in the near future."

"Well, _Huáscareños,_ " Will said, rising to his feet. "Let's show 'em how it's done. If you're off duty, rest until you're called to quarters. Otherwise… Comrades, please take your stations."

* * *

Abebech had not required much analysis for the situation around the asteroid base before giving the order to move in more closely. Once they did the _Heermann,_ sitting quietly under cloak, was the perfect platform for high-fidelity observation.

What she and her command staff saw was a truly incredible battle. Fleets of spaceships in formation moved to engage each other with massive rows of turreted and fixed beam weapons, in wild configurations that seemed unconstrained by the typical notions of gravity or physics, while around them small objects swirled and tangled with each other.

It was not hyperbole to say they were unconstrained by gravity and physics, either: Goodenough could see that there were particle traces throughout local space which were wildly exotic. He was recording everything, and sometimes tapped his own head in frustration. Being the closest thing to a science officer the _Heermann_ had constantly reminded him that he was a Royal Navy Petty Officer in the first half of his life, had never seen the inside of a University, and had known more about tying knots than physics when he first encountered a Darglan brainwave infuser.

Still, it wasn't like he _quit._ Anything. So next he resolved images of the small craft. Even Abebech made a small noise that sounded almost like a grunt, though it was gone as soon as it came.

"I hate to be the fool," Goodenough hesitated, "especially since I'm the science officer. But the configuration of those ships makes no sense. Like giant flying men in space?"

"They're using some kind of particle steering field directed from the arms and legs for precision manoeuvring," Abebech replied. "The reason for the configuration is to make the steering completely intuitive, even to untrained pilots. They might operate on direct neural interface."

"Don't you have one of those?"

"It won't interface with Darglan technology, but it's rather mandatory if you want to get anything done in the Solarian territories, so yes," she answered calmly, watching the flashes of lit and flitting vectoring suits. "Look at that one group, Commander. They cannot get the better of each other, the two suits, the one with the green gunboat on its side, but that fighter is moving to intervene. Do we know what side that is yet? Mehmet?"

"Tactical channels are picking up an Earth Federation fleet reference, Captain." The lithe Turkish man glared at the screen for a moment. "Their encryption is perfectly advanced, however."

"Of course it is," Abebech answered drolly, but her voice faded as she did. Sunglassed eyes gazed out more, and more intently to the viewscreen. "There's something…"

The _Heermann,_ floating under cloak, was invisible to the combatants, but Abebech's vantage point that it provided seemed to entrance her. Goodenough had been going to speak, but he held his tongue. He'd never seen his Captain this way before.

She watched the fighter come in again, and again. Both times it was attacked by close-range cutting beams on one of the variable-geometry units. The two units, mechs, for want of a better term, continued to duel, but the duel seemed fitful, distracted.

Abebech was nonetheless fixated on that, and nothing else in the battlefield at all. Around her, the alarms continued to indicate the Code Red status on the _Heermann._ As distracted as she was, Abebech would never permit her ship to be so close to an active warzone except on General Quarters.

Goodenough couldn't help but observe that the strange duel between the unusual craft seemed as distracted as his Captain. That is, until it came to a sudden and violent denouement. In a flash, the curved but compact green gunboat swept in between the two mechs in what was a recklessly dangerous manoeuvre. When it did, fire lashed out, and caught in the crossfire, it was speared and gutted like a fish on a line.

Abebech bolted upright in her command chair and slapped the comm switch on the armrest. "Goodenough! Coordinates of that gunboat to TR One! Transporter Room One, _lock to coordinates and_ beam _up_!"

Goodenough's professionalism was such that he confirmed the coordinates and sent them immediately. Abebech's disciplined crew had been infused with her expectations of speed and efficiency from top to bottom. The transporter chief activated on the coordinates immediately.

A young Indic woman in a shattered spacesuit appeared in the transporter room as the effect faded. Taking no risks with the shattered spacesuit helmet and serious injuries, the Transporter Chief activated the controls again and promptly sent her back on to sickbay in an internal transport. "Doctor Foru, human female, violent decompression and energy weapons injuries!"

Abebech heard that over the intercom, and nodded tightly. "Stand by…"

"Captain," Goodenough's crisp voice cut the tension on the bridge. "The mechs of _both_ forces are turning toward us… And so are the ships. _They have found our position_."

A chill cracked the feeling of tension on the bridge. Abebech said nothing. She offered no explanation for her split-second second to save the life of a total stranger. She just pushed down on the relay for the 1MC. "All Hands, this is the Captain speaking. We have been discovered and may be in action momentarily. Mind your stations." Then she disengaged the channel, and pitched her voice. " _TACTICAL,_ transfer power to shields!"

Goodenough couldn't help a grin. He approved of the sentiment. Better to have them fighting fit and facing the enemy openly than to come under fire with shields down while hiding under cloak if they could be accurately targeted. "Their power curves are marginal and their accelerations in the tens of g's, Captain."

"Very good, Mister Goodenough." The _Heermann_ rippled into view, shields surging to power. "Bring us about, full impulse power, least-time course to outer Earth orbit."

"Aye-aye, Captain," the stiff-backed Ca'elia spun them on heel, the engines ticking up to power, drive-trails glowing as the magnetic vanes steered her wake, her running lights showing as she flicked over on her port beam and showed the primitive human ships her tail with a surge of acceleration. The boxy little power-pack of a ship was, to them, as fast as a whippet, and Ca'elia put it all on display in getting clear.

The call had been the right one. The two groups of ships didn't engage, and were rapidly left in their wake. "Patch me through to the _Huáscar,_ I need to make another report." The situation was more complicated than her crew realised.

* * *

Dr. Narus Foru was the only medical officer on the _Heermann._ As the ship's Doctor, he found himself reporting to a much junior-but admittedly brilliant-woman in Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur on the _Huáscar,_ who had command of the medical detachment for the much smaller attacker while it was detailed in the big exploration cruiser.

As an Alakin, he was also an alien to the woman on his examining table, and he had no idea what languages she spoke, though he did know her name. Handing her identcard off to one of his nurses, he annotated the log from the English inscription in it alongside the more ornate one in a language he was unfamiliar with. _Lalah Sune._

Nurse Hilfer turned back to him. Dr. Foru wanted a human female present for when his patient woke up, but her expression was one of great surprise. "Doctor, that's Lojban on the identicard."

"Lojban?"

"An artificial language humans in some timelines created for interethnic communication. I learned it when I studied linguistics before entering nursing. I don't really understand what the name means, but… Ensign Lalah Sune, Principality of Zeon Space Attack Force."

"Zeon is the name of Zeon Zum Deikun, the great philosopher and creator of the Contolist school," a voice came from the medbed, the Indian English accent strong, though unsurprisingly as it matched both her ethnicity and bindi.

Dr. Foru turned as the woman stirred, looking exhausted, broken down, a wreck at such a young age. But as she turned to face him, she gasped in surprise.

An alien, blue skinned, yellow plumage, an Alakin was anything but human, a proud member of an avianoid species instead. Dr. Foru knew these humans had likely never before seen aliens, and he tried to disarm with politeness. "You are quite cultured to know those details, then."

"I wanted to understand Char," Lalah answered, "and it's all recent history, I…" There was a flash over her mind. "You're familiar with humans, you live among them, don't you?"

"...Yes, Ensign. Are you a telepath?"

"I don't even know what that means," Lalah answered. "Wait, no… Yes, I think you might be right. I am a Newtype, Doctor Foru. And you have changed everything by saving me. Gods, you have changed everything…"

"Ensign, I don't know what we have done, but that we saved your life from your ship."

She looked distantly into the wall, her mind very much on a scene elsewhere. "Yes, you have, but I expected to die. And now they both know, and they'll both be coming here. For _Me._ Oh Char…" She closed her eyes and started quietly crying.

"Ensign? Who is Char?" But Doctor Foru received no reply, instead, he received his own question.

"Who was the Dark One who saved me, Doctor? Why did she do it?"

"The Dark One? I don't understand…"

* * *

Standing well-off the Moon and the strange collection of untouched habitats which sat beyond it and were still undergoing analysis by Fera'xero, the _Huáscar_ received the _Heermann_ behind her protective CAP bubble. Immediately after falling into formation, Abebech hailed the _Huáscar._ "Captain Zhen'var, this is Commander Imra. I am requesting permission to come aboard and brief you in person while the _Heermann_ retains an undocked alert posture."

Zhen'var's face flickered in a momentary frown. It _had_ to be serious for her to request that. "Of course, Commander, permission granted."

"A few minutes, then, Captain. Thank you. Goodenough, you have the conn," she could be heard saying as she rose and deactivated the comm.

Exactly as promised, she arrived to the transporter right off the _Huáscar's_ bridge, and as a listed member of the crew did not ask permission to come aboard. Instead she came to attention. "Captain Zhen'var, Commander Imra reporting."

"To my ready room, Commander." Zhen'var was clearly tense, as she gestured with a hand and led the way to her small office off the bridge.

Abebech followed immediately, and remained at attention as the Captain sat. Gloved hands folded behind her back, and her eyes impossible to see - so professional, but she might have as well been called to the carpet.

"Stand easy, Commander. Please, begin briefing me. The situation, as far as I can discern, is both serious and time-critical. I have already requested reinforcements, and am awaiting a response."

Abebech seemed to try and force herself to relax. "If I may sit, that would be better for what you intend, Captain. The BLUF is that there are telepaths on both sides of this conflict." She let that sink in for a minute. "The long form is-they're powerful, untrained ones, lacking in social schema through which to express their powers. And…" She squeezed her gloved hands as if she did not really _want_ to say it. "They are using psionically interfaced technology."

"Is this… a _great_ concern?" Captain Zhen'var's expression carried a hint of confusion as she gestured to a chair.

Abebech moved to sit. She thought for a moment how to phrase it best. "Captain, my first training is as a historian, and I am very interested in the history of my people. Let me say that the only time such technology has ever existed in the Multiverse, with a few terrifying exceptions, was during the late Earthreign."

"Mine, I fear, is not. You will need to explain more, Commander. This technology is the only outlier in this particular universe, please?" She was placing a stylus to pad on her desk to take quick notes.

"Well, they are also using a very abnormal kind of fusion," Abebech answered after a moment. "But… You must understand that the Earthreign is a riddle in an enigma, boxed in several legends. It was thousands of years ago, and what most people know about it is that it was 'terrible' and that it was a totalitarianism of psions. Among biased sorts, the former is implied by the latter, and the latter is a supposition based on the former."

"I do not see a mental link controlling technology as a situation that would call for such a belief or response, but…" She tapped the stylus down. "You see parallels, Abebech? That is not what concerns _me_."

"It creates a pathway to kinds of technology that the Multiverse does not currently know. Among the Vulcans there was one similar device, it was called the Stone of Gol, I know that much from my studies of the Multiverse." she paused, and her lips twisted into a grimace for a moment, and she dropped the train of conversation.

"Well, Captain," Abebech continued, "I understand if you don't consider this important enough. However, please be mindful that in this complicated political situation, these young, newly manifested telepaths are already part of the front-line war effort. I rescued one from her fatally damaged combat craft. She is aboard the _Heermann_ receiving treatment right now. Ensign Lalah Sune, of the Principality of Zeon Space Attack Force."

"I will wish to speak with her, but we _must_ end the massive bloodshed…" She looked to her subordinate. "Abebech, what is your _intent_?" Her mind was open, as Zhen'var asked her attacker commander - she did not understand _why_ it was important, but she accepted Abebech did… and so she asked in a roundabout way what the elder woman recommended she do.

"My intent is to allow us to end the bloodshed by finding the real cause for the bloodshed and eliminating it. _Lalah Sune,_ Captain, is _important_ in this. But I don't know how. I just saw the battlefield, I could hear her death-cry, I felt something slip away, and I acted. It was not outside of regulations as Commander of the _Heermann_ to save the life of one stricken in the void, even a combatant in the midst of battle between two enemies."

"I am not second-guessing it. You have good instincts, Commander. You should warn your crew, however. I will likely be compelled to invoke Case Armageddon after speaking with this woman you have rescued."

"I will make the appropriate preparations, Captain, for sustained heavy combat. They appear primitive, but both sides do use unusually sophisticated systems in certain areas. If they do not comply, the operation under Case Armageddon will be difficult. These people built hundreds of habs in the space of... A hundred and ten years, captain. It is a particularly precocious instantiation of humanity."

"I am aware, we will be hard pressed and likely take heavy damage, but… well. Harm's Way is the Valiant Way, is it not? I will not see more habs destroyed if I can stop it."

"Understood." She rose. "By your leave, then? I will have Ensign Sune transferred aboard as soon as the Doctors clear her, and it shouldn't be long."

"Of course. You have clearance to use a priority override if there is anything you believe I need to know that can not wait for channels, no matter the hour or situation. Please brief Commander Saumarez as well. If there is a telepath issue, I wish all of ours to know if you are away from _Huascar_."

"Very well. I will do that first, Captain." She stepped out.

 _Just what have you given me to deal with, Abebech…?_

* * *

It didn't take long to get Lalah Sun transferred to the _Huáscar,_ since she was well enough for transport. The moment she arrived, her eyes widened at once again _another_ species of alien, in this case Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur. "Ensign Sune, is it?"

"Yes, I…" She fell silent. "Your teleporters. I wasn't awake the last time."

"They're very efficient," Nah'dur answered. "You're probably curious about my species. I'm a pseudofelinoid, called a Dilgar. In a special arrangement with the Alliance, we provide half the crew of this cruiser. Come over here, please." She personally helped the woman onto the bed which went into the main multidimensional imager. "I want to do detailed scans to make sure you are healthy."

"...Just like at the Flanagan institute… What's your name, Doctor?"

" _Surgeon-Commander_ Nah'dur," she corrected, though gently. "Now just lay still, this will only take a few minutes."

Lalah closed her eyes and folded her hands, trying to relax as the bed fed her into the machine.

Nah'dur took advantage of the scanning machine to activate her omnitool. "Captain Zhen'var, this is Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur. I have this Ensign Lalah Sune in the scanner, but you can speak to her as you requested the moment that she's finished, so you could start down now if you like."

"Thank you, Commander. I shall be down in a few minutes." crackled from the comms unit in response.

It was as she said, a few moments later Captain Zhen'var arrived in sickbay, stepping straight for Nah'dur. "Surgeon-Commander. The scanning cycle is almost finished?"

"Yes, she's coming out now, Captain."

"I will wait in the main ward for her to be ready, thank you, Commander. This may take a while." She stepped back, then, to wait.

One of the nurses wheeled Lalah Sune in a few minutes later. "Captain." She rolled the wheel-chair up to the bed, and the alert woman's eyes snapped to Zhen'var.

"You're the commander of this vessel," she asked as she was transferred. Or, not really asked. It was more of a statement of fact. "What is your good name, Ma'am?"

"I am indeed. My name is Zhen'var. You are Ensign Lalah Sune, I am given to understand, the Principality of Zeon Space Attack Force. You are not a prisoner, I shall also clarify at this time. I am considering you a rescued spacefarer at present."

"Thank you, Captain. That is charitable." She reached up to carefully rub her eyes, taking note of the woman's English being much the same as her own.

"I would hear your version of the events and personalities that have led to the present intolerable situation my ships find themselves within, Ensign. Surgeon-Commander, if she is able, some chai for us both. The meeting room attached to your office has a replicator with better seating, yes?"

"Yes, and she can move. She's recovering very well for someone who was… Exposed to vacuum," Nah'dur offered from where she was standing behind Zhen'var.

"Thank you, Surgeon-Commander." Zhen'var reached out a hand. "If you need the help, Ensign. Let us sit someplace more comfortable and speak."

Lalah took her hand, with a tight nod, and rose with help, her eyes flashing as she did. "Kya aapane maingalor mein english seekh lee?"

"Yes, lekin yah ek jatil tale hai," Zhen'var replied.

"It's all right," Lalah laughed, and pain flashed through her eyes as she moved to sit. "Main ek mumbai girl."

"I was born in Gvangjsih - Guangxi. I was raised by my mother from when I was a baby in her home, Mangalore. As you may discern, it became even more complicated after _that_."

"You have walked a strange road, Captain." She smiled a little, and smiled more when the chai came, sniffing over the big mug first. "Mmn. It has been almost a year."

"I suspect you have as well. If there is any food you would like, the replicators do spoil us a fair bit. Computer, neer dosa, kori gassi and mutton sukka with mango lassi." Zhen'var smiled, standing up for the plate which she'd set on the low table between the two couches, along with the glass. "When you are comfortable, as I said. I would know your side of the situation. There is clearly another, but I shall hear yours, for you are here."

Wide eyes tracked with the food. "I worry about eating too much, when I was almost dead, but, Captain, _Haleem,_ " she requested, "and salted lassi." She sipped her chai with her eyes on the replicator. "That could end hunger, but it must take so much energy yes?"

"Correct, though there are technologies, worlds that have reduced scarcity a great deal with such things. On a vessel, the use of energy is less a negative than the use of _volume_ we would require for sufficient supplies on long-duration missions."

"Volume is a brootal limitation, ke baavajood Minovsky physics," she answered quietly, looking at her own food after Zhen'var presented it. She tried it, and smiled brightly. "It is very authentic, the system does well. Sab kuch k liye thank you, Captain."

"I insisted on letting the crew tinker with the formulations until they were satisfied, myself included. Minovsky physics… the odd readings our sensors have been detecting from your vessels are related, I assume?"

"Recycling a pure Helium-3 chain reaction through a special design of multi-stage reactor produces a previously unpredicted particle named after the discoverer, Captain, it is what much technology on both sides is based upon." It was hardly a detailed technical explanation, but it conveyed the gist. She switched more to English as the conversation got more technical.

"Hm. Interesting." She did hide her interest, a previously unpredicted particle? Fera'xero would love the news, she was sure.

"Earth began to spread into the stars bahut samay pahale, Captain. Once there were four hundred and fifty-five bunches-couples of colonies-in orbit. Kya aap yahee jaanana chaahate the?"

"I would wish to know _everything_ , but, yes. Just how did such a terrible war start, Ensign? It appears to be one to the knife, with all restraint abandoned in the pursuit of victory."

"I only know what Char told me, Captain." Her expression tightened into one of bitterness, flushed with shame. "Jab Zeon aaya tha, government officials kahana Earth chaklay lagna."

"A civil war, then, or a war for independence, one that has grown extremely sharp indeed."

"Captain, main ek Earth Federation Citizen tha, Earth was very troubled, no raw materials. But all manufacturing was there. Zeon diya gaya tha ajaadi many years ago. But there was a blockade, ajaadi kee keemat. They were isolated."

"Where I came from, it was Mars and the extra-solar colonies who chafed, and eventually rebelled against the government of Earth when it fell into the hands of evil men.

"Mars does not have enough people here," Lalah replied. "Zeon declared mukti yuddh for the Spacenoids, lekin badale they bombarded Earth with colonies. Government flee to a secret base in the Amazon, there was a truce, Zeon jameen par soldiers bheje gae, they conquered most of Earth."

"A liberation war, we could have supported, but bombarding cities, civilians with the kinetic bolides that an O'Neil colony represents…" She grit her teeth.

"Captain," she buried her face, and continued with great deliberation in carefully enunciated English, "The Earth Federation was brutally corrupt. I was sold as a prostitute for the workers building the great new planned cities in the Amazon. It was a man of Zeon who rescued me from this shame. That is why I am loyal to Zeon. Zeon welcomes anyone who wishes to live the life of a spacenoid. Even a Mumbai whore," she almost spat the words, "can become an officer and gentlewoman in the nation of the Red Comet."

Zhen'var clenched her teeth hard enough for them to make a gnashing noise as she planted her face in her hands. " _Mother Shakti._ I cannot support colony drops. _Nor_ can I support abuse or oppression of an entire people. Ensign, you… thank you."

"It must be told, Captain, you are a woman, you understand not to repeat these things," She said very, very precisely in English before reverting to the more comfortable Hinglish. "The Zeon government arranged for me to study at a special institute for those with Newtype senses. They trained us to be warriors. And Char, the Red Comet, asked for me by name to fight with him, Captain. He is my love, my beau, voluntarily so. I am loyal to the man who saved me. Kisee aur ke lie war kaise lad sakata hai?"

"Be loyal to yourself as well, Ensign… but I understand that feeling very well." She indicated herself, when she did.

"You have your own story," Lalah replied. There was, to someone not used to telepaths, something disconcerting in her certainty. "I know you are not from this universe."

"You take such information well. It is so, Ensign."

"I expected to be dead, Captain, with a certainty that makes my life feel impossible." She had fully switched to English.

"I have been called impossible before." She replied with a grin, going on; "You must thank the commander of the _Heermann_ , however. Commander Abebech Imra is the one who chose to intervene, though I support her completely in so doing."

"The dark one…" She murmured. Then her eyes flitted up. "And _not_ for the colour of her skin. Give her my thanks."

The captain gave her a strange look - people with mental powers had called Imra dark before, and she herself did not understand it at _all_. "I shall."

Finishing her food, she looked down, and bit her lip. "Earth Federation is on the offensive, Captain. Zeon retreated from Earth. We were fighting to spoil the advance on A Bao a Qu."

"I understand. My people, the Dilgar…" She trailed off, a roil of emotions. "The war must end. The _killing_ of innocents must end. Those in uniform do not deserve to die in the effort. Now, tell me the _details_ , Ensign… I want, I _need_ to know _everything_ that has happened that you may tell me."

"It's better to use English for this." She folded her hands, and looked intent. "Captain, I do not like killing, but for Char, I do what I must. I was trained at Doctor Flanagan's institute, it's in Side Six-at the L4 point, the Riah Republic. They declared independence when the war started, but they haven't joined it. They're the only ones untouched, except the outer system."

"It must be a difficult place for them, to be between two powers seeking every advantage. You departed from there to the Zeon Space Attack Force, then, once your training was complete?"

"We all did. The institute was a front for Zeon, Captain. I was sent there at Char's behest. Riah was attacked in fighting over the institute a few months ago, though."

"I see. Ensign, you will remain aboard. I _cannot_ let this situation continue. If you will give your parole, it will greatly ease your circumstances. I regret to inform you that under my fleet's standing orders, I believe I must intervene in your peoples' war."

"Will you stop the killing, Captain? Can you?" They want it to continue… I think everyone does, I wish I knew who wanted peace."

"I can. I _will_. I will accept your help, if you will give it, Ensign Sune." Her determination was visible, as was her _confidence_ , even the possibility of facing such long odds.


	13. Episode 3 Act 2

**Act Two**

Within another hour, Zhen'var's request for urgent communication with headquarters had borne fruit. "Admiral Maran is on priority one, Captain," CPO Bor'eri came over the intercom in her quarters.

"Patch him through to my terminal immediately, Chief." Zhen'var moved to sit, adjusting her uniform as she did, swinging her chair to face the holo-pickup directly.

"Captain Zhen'var. As usual, my apologies for the delay." Admiral Maran slowly seemed healthier the further away from the Reich's surrender they got. The war must have posed unimaginable stress to him. "We received your message and the preliminary assessment as well. Clearly the situation is catastrophic for this Earth."

"I agree, sir. They appear to have successfully gone onto the counter-offensive, but both sides still have a great deal of strength remaining, with atrocities aplenty on all sides. The Principality of Zeon appears to have begun the war and made repeated bolide attacks with large O'Neil type colonies. Our best analysis is that Earth's greater resources have begun to tell, with various mis-steps on the side of the Principality denying them victory. One may say it is not dis-similar to the Second World War's Eastern Front after the Battle of Stalingrad in general situation and mutual hatred."'

"The assessments suggest billions are dead, Captain. Can we assess responsibility? Objectives? Ideology? I understand that you have a Zeon pilot aboard the _Huáscar_ at the moment."

"She was… _treated in an ill-fashion_ by the Earth government. A Zeon pilot rescued her. She herself proved to have an aptitude for piloting, and serves them to repay his kindness with extreme personal devotion." She paused, to gather her words. "It is an independence revolt with… overtones of fascist thought on the side of the rebels. They appear to have been the one to drop the colony in a failed decapitation strike. Rules of war were only mutually agreed after the first month, in which I estimate more than a billion died, sir."

"Make sure no more civilian mass death occurs, Captain. You are authorised to negotiate any peace between the warring factions which does not tie _our_ hands in seeking out prosecutions for crimes against humanity in the future."

Her spine visibly stiffened, and Zhen'var's voice came out crisp and clipped; "Understood, Admiral. Reinforcements may still be urgently needed if they insist on pressing the point."

"Three cruisers can arrive within fifteen hours, Captain, with a squadron of attackers and a destroyer."

"If it goes as it may, sir, I will need them. If I fight another fleet alone, I _may_ have a chance. Wish me good fortune, sir, for I shall need to be moving in. _Heermann_ and I have been noticed already."

"May you always find courage in your stand against the Darkness, Captain," he answered, almost like a benediction. "Take such actions as you deem necessary. You are authorised any exigency necessary to protect civilian life."

"Thank you, Admiral." As soon as the connection blinked off, she reached for her comms panel; "Officer of the Watch, full ship's command meeting in fifteen minutes."

* * *

Everyone arrived, including Héen and Dugan, for a full command meeting. Seconds of departments had the bridge. Some had been drawn from sleep, and were still waking up from it, Chief Dugan among them, who was holding an utterly massive styrofoam cup which said Dunkin' Donuts on it.

"Seriously, Chief?" Elia, who was preparing another briefing deck, stared for a moment.

"It's only five credits a month to sign up for their replicator program, you better believe it, Ma'am."

"Does it actually make a difference in how the coffee tastes?" Nah'dur leaned in.

"Oh yeah, Surgeon Commander." He grinned.

"Hmm. Perhaps I shall like this kind of coffee."

Elia was looking back down at her interface, and glanced up again, giving a helpless _you know what_ expression to Zhen'var.

Will saw it and stepped over, speaking _sotto-voiced._ "Is the holoprojector seriously broken again?"

"Please do not make me replicate a plotting board and some grease pencils." Zhen'var's tone was _resigned_. "Shadow puppets would be more reliable."

The little knot of the ship's senior officers couldn't be ignored. "Ma'am, is the holoprojector broken again?" Dugan asked from down at the far end of the table. "I've put in five ServiceTrak requests with the Computer Engineering Detachment about that thing since we first deployed."

"Anna, you are not getting out of at least some blame in this." At least the Captain had a smile… that was more of a pained grimace, granted.

There was some kind of muffled Polish curse under her breath as she got up and walked around to the front of the table, holding her coffee. "Elia, do you have that little screwdriver you use to get at buttons you can't depress with your gloves?" As she spoke, Fera'xero also got up to help.

"Yes," Elia answered, reaching up to her collar and pulling it out of the breast-pocket with a flourish before handing it to the Chief Engineer. With Elia, Anna, Zhen'var and Will all clustered around the holoprojector at the head of the table, Fera'xero's effort to help ended up leading to him simply standing there awkwardly next to the Captain's shoulder, not sure of what to say or do and whether or not to retreat to his chair.

Zhen'var groaned. "The best and brightest from _multiple_ universes... and we are being defeated by a holoprojector. This was _never_ in the broadcasts about glorious naval battles. Still, it could be worse, at least we can be _reasonably_ sure it is a design defect. Anna, you have my permission to make an OrdAlt. You can even take some ship's reimbursables to make the entire room a holodeck at this point, _that_ would work better than this flimsyweight."

"One second please, Captain..." With a straining look of intense concentration, her face was smushed like a pastry up against the open casing of the holoprojector, three fingers managing to hold the screwdriver to something. Then with almost a growl, she shoved it about another half inch in, and the holoprojector activated. Extricating herself and closing the case, she shook her head wryly to Elia. "You can take it out when we're done with the briefing."

Elia buried her head in her gloved hands, chuckling. "No problem, Anna."

It seemed almost like in the background one could hear Violeta saying to Arterus _'you can't make this shit up',_ but it was quiet enough that it was hard for Will to tell. He shot a glance to Zhen'var.

She waved with her free hand, face buried in her hand, a look of pain on her face as she either softly laughed or cried, it was hard to tell. "Everyone sit down, _please_. The situation is as _serious_ as our equipment is farcical on occasion."

Elia waited politely for the others to get back to their seats after half flopping back into her own before composing herself. That female member of Psi-Corps instinct to never let yourself be seen as anything other than a perfectly kitted out doll in public was very strong in her. "With your permission, Captain? I know you have some topics of your own, but as you directed, I have the summary of all our intelligence-gathering to date on the situation ready to go."

"Go ahead. You even have my report from the conversation, so all I have to add are our orders at the end."

"Understood, Captain." Elia remained seated. They were all comrades here, there was no need for formality. She clicked up the first projection. "The ruling family of Zeon. The Zabis. Degwin Sodo Zabi is the father, you can see he has suffered greatly from an early life in microgravity and sustained radiation exposure, but his children are part of the new, fit generations born in artificial gravity. Gihren, the eldest, appears to be the primary leading force of the war, the chief ideologue of the regime. Dozle, known for his temper but a devoted family man who was a practical spaceforce commander. Killed in action at that asteroid base the _Heermann_ observed, several weeks ago. Kycilia, current head of the Secret State Agency _and_ the Mobile Assault Force. Garma, Earth Attack Force commander until his death in action in mysterious circumstances. The Zabi family renamed Side 3 in honour of Degwin Zabi's longtime friend and mentor, the philosopher Zeon Zum Deikun, whose philosophy of Contolism is critical to understanding everything we know about this war to date. Note that all this information comes from Earth Federation propaganda broadcasts to their own people on the surface, except for a few tangential references from our guest that seem to confirm broad particulars. But, treat the information suspect as you should."

"The cliff-notes version of Contolism," Elia grinned down the table, "is that it supposes that the next stage in human evolution will be obtained through evolution of the _mind,_ to perceive others and things without moving-in short, telepathy, telekinesis, and so on. This is held to be a good, natural, spiritual development of humanity. Contolism holds that humanity is destroying its link with the Earth and polluting the sacred mother-world through overpopulation and resource consumption; the only solution is to evolve into a new form whose spiritual centredness is not linked to the Earth. That will happen inevitably and naturally through the migration of the human population to space. Zeon's propaganda is nothing less than the argument that their objective is in fact to engineer total human migration from, and sapient abandonment of, Earth, as a political realisation of the beliefs of Contolism."

"In reality," her voice turned grim, "Zeon conducted Operation British, the first colony drop, with the objective of destroying the headquarters of the Earth Federation, regardless of collateral damage. Earth Federation forces diverted the Colony, but it crashed into Sydney, instead." The crater was a graphic example of the scale of the destruction, and Elia showed that next and let them dwell on it. "Half the population of Earth has died in the past year, and it's almost as bad in orbit. The combined total population was about twenty billion, by the way. And Zeon's propaganda is not matched by behaviour in practice. The Earth Federation claims that they gassed the population of the Colony used in Operation British. Fellow Spacenoids. And they attacked the Riau Republic, neutral Side 6, on dubious grounds. The destruction of colonies has been conducted with wild abandon, though at least some Earth Federation guilt must be entertained, generally the Earth Federation seems to have evidence of major atrocities by Zeon during the Battle of Loum directed against other Spacenoids."

"Again, this information is primarily from state propaganda sources, and most of them in the Earth Federation." Elia paused. "We know, too, that Contolism's new humans exist here: Telepaths. They are present in the armies of both sides, and the Zeonic forces, too, have fully integrated them-including with technology Commander Imra detected which may, in fact, harness telepathic abilities into physical effects and control of machines. This, combined with the Minovsky particle-based physics of the ubiquituous mobile suits makes our opponents more serious than a fleet which at first pass would otherwise be the 2180 Earth Force back home. The militarisation of telepaths is continuing and accelerating, and the Flanagan Institute is now known and was attacked, but probably continues research within Riau. The nature of this research is unknown, except that it produced Ensign Sune's training and the telepathically controlled weapons pods she operated from her prototype fighter in action."

"At this time, Zeon has been pushed out of most of the lower Sides and defeated on the surface of the Earth. However, Zeon still possesses several major fleets, and the massive asteroid base 'A Bao a Qu' which is strategically located across the lowest-energy routes to the far side of the Moon, the location of Zeon at the translunar lagrange point. The Federation fleet was mobilising to advance on A Bao a Qu when we intervened." She finished cycling through the images. "That is all, comrades."

"Our orders are simple. Case Armageddon has been invoked. We are to end the mass civilian deaths with any means necessary, and if possible, create a peace that does… not impair our ability to prosecute for war crimes in the future." She grimaced at that last part. "Three cruisers, with a squadron of attackers and a destroyer, will be arriving in approximately fifteen hours. For once, we have reinforcements, which means this is as bad as you have all been secretly thinking it might be. My intent is to carry out those orders, no matter how confused or dangerous the situation may be."

"What you need, get it to us now," Will added simply. "We'll make sure you've got what you need, but only if we know about it."

"We are going to be attacked, we are going to be attacking. Beyond that, I cannot predict what the situation will involve. Ensign Sune may be problematic, her loyalties are _personal_ rather than political. Full combat CAP, and Condition Yellow until relieved."

There was a chorus of acknowledgment, but Elia was looking thoughtful. "Captain, in your report of your conversation with Ensign Sune, she indicated she's following a man named Char, correct?"

"That is correct. My _suspicion_ is that there is some sort of mental, as well as personal bond."

"Possibly. But it's certainly enough for us to identify the man. Char Aznable, the Red Comet. The supreme Zeon Space Attack Force Mobile Suit Ace of the war, unstoppable since it began." She flashed the data-file out.

"Expect him to seek to free her. Lar'shan, he has gotten quite the kill count on fighters, have your people ready. Tactical, his tally in capital ships is equally impressive, if he can get past our shields somehow, it will go wrong _very quickly_ for us."

"We don't yet know enough about their technology to speculate on that, either," Anna said. "We have to assume they can hurt us."

"I can begin an analysis of the Minovsky effect, Captain," Fera'xero had already been making notes on his omnitool.

"And I'll get a revised manning plan out to maximise crew rest in the short term without compromising Condition Yellow on the expedition of imminent sustained combat, Ma'am," Dugan said from the end of the table.

Lar'shan and Stasia looked at each other. They had enough to go on. "Yellow CAP will be going up in fifteen minutes, Captain."

"The usual, we may need the deck on short notice. I wish I had more information for you all, but I do not. Rush the crew through a last good meal and time to put personal effects in order, then get them to stations. We are into it now, _Huáscareños_."

Elia leapt to her feet, and for lack of any formal salute to make or sword to draw, raised her gloved fist into the air. "¡ _Viva Huáscar y viva Huáscareños_!"

* * *

The _Zanzibar_ strummed under his feet. Inside of one of the spinning gravity chambers of the cruiser, a Newtype felt nothing even when some of the other crew might be queasy from the small radius and high velocity of the section, but instead of that typical feeling, the chamber was locked down, as the _Zanzibar_ was in a continuous 3g burn which was driving the crew down toward the deckplates-all except Char Aznable, who stood tall.

The weight was painful, but part of the natural burden and experience of life as a Spacenoid. Unlike the gravity of bitter old Earth, it would fade, it was as transitory as the fuel for the reactor, gone in a moment to give light to the dreams of humans in stars. Char was not one to hold his desperate exile as a child with much sentimentality, but some of the story had crept into his bones and refused to leave.

In the Andalusian idle of their ancient fortress, the family de Mas had raised him—except they were called Mass, because of Prime Minister Marcenas' spelling reforms during his effort to wipe out nationhood on Earth. Catalan in national origin, but staunch old National Spaniards loyal to the Bourbon King, the strange friendship of this father and that man, who clung to the old stories of the past, of knights and El Cid, had sustained him when otherwise he would have been a desperate orphan with his sister. The hot Andalusian nights, the strumming guitar and the tune _El Blocao de la Muerte,_ the bitter complaints over the erasure of El Caudillo's memory, these had left an indelible impression on his heart.

For someone raised to believe in the necessary migration of all of humanity from Earth, the taste of dust lingered with him, and actually reinvigorated his beliefs. _As long as dust is still on our boots, it will tug at our heartstrings and have us return to the old tombs for honour's sake, again and again. I spent just enough time in it to know why they love it too much to give it up of their own free will._ In this moment, the noise of the _Zanzibar_ 's engines, running at 140% power, sounded like the guitar, and the guitar melted into the Sitar… And he thought of Lalah.

For an aching, heart-breaking moment of certain rage, Char had watched her die. He had felt it start, he had seen it, it had ripped his heart. And then he had felt the life of air and a surge of hope fill her, a strange, disorienting displacement. As he had swept past his rival, his eyes had snapped, his sensors had tracked, and he had seen the strange and compact ship which had shimmered into reality.

In a heartbeat all of his terror and rage had snapped into a clarity of purpose. He had to rescue Lalah, _at all costs._ And so he had broken off from his original mission and summoned the _Zanzibar._ It was hardly a rogue mission. The moment Space Attack Force command had seen the data on the incredible performance of the mystery ship, his diversion had been authorised.

Initially, he had pursued only on the basis of his feeling of Lalah's location. This had taken them far beyond the battlefield, burning through fuel reserves toward the area of Lunar orbit, but far from Luna and Zeon at the moment. The pursuit was relentless, and his officers were beginning to nervously check the fuel reserves.

"Sir! Long range scan is now picking up an anomaly-some indications of separation."

"An anomaly with separation? More than one ship?" He turned toward the plotting board. "That would only be expected. I doubt a vessel half the size of the _Zanzibar_ would be…" He trailed off. _Interuniversal._ The Zabi family did not need to know that. Let them think it was aliens and fear. But he knew. He knew. "Interstellar. Plot the necessary parabolic to intercept the fixed position."

"We are exactly on course already, Sir!"

"Then hold course… And begin preparing our Mobile Suit complement."

"Sieg Zeon!"

Char watched the dots slowly resolve on the plot. He _knew,_ he _knew,_ that Lalah Sune was aboard, and as long as he had a _chance_ to rescue her, nothing else would, could, matter.

* * *

Amuro Ray stood on the bridge of the White Base, feeling like he was wilting into the deck from the continuous burn, and envious of the wounded Sayla's composure. Captain Noa dragged himself through one step at a time, pacing in front of them in front of the plotting board, his head weighed by both gravity and plots.

They had told him everything. _Everything._ They'd had to. The fact that the mysterious ship had rescued a Zeon pilot through teleportation had been what had won Bright Noa over. It had been what he used, with less emphasis on the teleportation and more on the incredible acceleration and performance of the ship, to receive permission to break off from the advance on A Bao a Qu and pursue them.

If Zeon had more than one ship like that, they might well yet win the war. Not simply turn the Federation back from A Bao a Qu- _win the war._ "You're sure she was still alive? That you could both feel her with your… Newtype abilities?"

"Yes," Sayla said emphatically from where she stood. "It's hard to understand, I didn't know why I was feeling that, and I didn't think, until the contact with that ship, that I could sense like _that,_ Captain, but I could and I did. And so did Amuro. The pilot of that special Zeon Mobile Suit was in her cockpit one moment, and on the mystery ship the next."

"And there's something which is strengthening what you can do?"

"Or focusing it," Sayla answered, a bit distracted.

"Amuro?" Bright asked a bit sharply, pressing him out of his reverie.

"Yes, of course she's right, Captain! I can still feel _her_ out there, we're heading the right way."

"Feel the Zeon pilot…" Bright muttered, looking back to the plot. He didn't like the sound of it, even though he respected what Amuro and Sayla were going through and that nobody could control this, that if it was natural it was hardly their fault. He knew the crew of the White Base was too tightly knit, but already, back on Earth and in the Sides, a paranoia about Newtypes had begun to grow.

"It wasn't like anything I can describe. But we've absolutely got to get to the bottom of …"

"I know, I know, Ensign."

"Captain," the crisp young woman at Navigation interrupted. "We are detecting an anomaly… Two, repeat two anomalies."

"Ensign Yashima? _Anomalies_?"

"Orbiting masses. I'm not detecting drive output, but they're almost certainly ships. We're having trouble deriving any data from them at this range. No Minovsky particle signatures."

"Two ships… Does the analysis indicate mass?" Bright was thinking again. This mission had been fine with one small ship, now…

"Indistinct, but the length of one of the returns is increasing as the aspect ratio changes. I think it might be over a kilometre long, Captain. In fact, I'm fairly confident of it."

"A kilometre long _ship,_ not an asteroid base?" He did some quick mental scaling from the _White Base_ and paled. A kilometre long White Base, courtesy of geometric scaling, would mass 4 _million metric tonnes_ fully laden, compared to the White Base, barely the size of a wet navy aircraft carrier.

"Stand by to report to Mobile Suits and fighters. I want to keep the White Base out of range of these contacts, but there's no question they must be investigated closely." _If that is a Zeon ship, they could still win the war in an afternoon!_

* * *

Will had barely taken over the night shift for the evening, from an exhausted looking Zhen'var. He'd found out pretty quickly what an exhausted Dilgar looked like, in several different flavours. Physically, in the gym, a human instructor who didn't realise the physiological differences could push a Dilgar to insane feats of exertion-for about five minutes, after which he or she would be a ball of rolling, quivering muscles on the ground, matted with sweat. The only one that _wasn't_ true of was Fei'nur, who could run for hours like a human. It was pretty clearly her cybernetics.

Culturally, he wasn't sure what a Dilgar said to a mental hygienist. Standards of care and practice were just too different for them to help humans or vice-versa, except Elia, and that entire thing was _complicated._ Human crewers saw Va'tor anyway, but Will wasn't sure about that. He could, though, tell without much effort that the intensity of their mission was grinding on Zhen'var. They were at alert. They were alone and responsible for everything. Billions of people might die if they failed, and Lalah Sune's story, whatever had passed between them, had left her in a very particular state.

One of the things they'd managed to incorporate in the design of the _Huáscar_ was a sea cabin. Federation ships, the inspiration for the _Aurora,_ didn't have them. But at quarters with the ship buttoned up, the Captain leaving the vicinity of the bridge was almost unfathomable. So the tiny, closet-sized space with a washroom and real bed one door from the bridge was where Zhen'var was sleeping now.

Will was settling in for the equivalent of a long afternoon. Schedules were staggered so that Elia served Shift One, a rotating one of the ops Lieutenants for Shift Two, and Will Shift Three (with the option of assigning an Ops lieutenant if he got too busy-this was happening more and more often), but they were all awake during Shift Two. Now the night-watch was his job, multi-million tonnes of starship wrapped around him like a city and a cocoon all in one, and never sleeping.

"Sir, a contact just went hot in at zero-zero-five mark nine, range seventeen kiloklicks." The junior Operations officer, an Alakin named Lieutenant Belzac, was glaring at his screen. "I don't know why we didn't detect them sooner."

"Have _Heermann_ and Patrol Two confirm the contact." _So much for even the smallest break._ He snapped alert in the command chair, reaching for his coffee and drowning a huge swallow. Coffee was a part of human life on a ship for the thirteenth colony, in every incarnation. Anna and Violeta and Chief Dugan from the Captain's home universe and Chief Héen from her indigenous community-And everyone on the _Koenig_ as well. Heck, even _Abebech,_ which as far as he was concerned was the only proof he had she was mortal _._ And so Will had gotten with the programme pretty darn fast. Only Elia was an exception, and she drank her tea by the pot, in cups blacker than Hades.

" _Heermann_ confirms, Sir." A voice came up from PriFly, it was Stasia. "Patrol Two confirms contact, Sir."

 _Speaking of, how the hell is she awake?_ "Set Condition Red, MC ZEBRA. Put them on screen. Is Patrol Two in a position to intercept?"

He knew Zhen'var would be out of her bed and here in about thirty seconds as the alarms began to howl and they again went from Yellow with modified-ZEBRA set to Red-ZEBRA "Yes Sir. Major Lar'shan is proceeding with intercept now."

"Reinforce him," Will ordered. _Directives, let them do their jobs._ He was learning too.

"Launching alert five, Sir." Stasia killed the commlink.

Ahead of him, the image of a ship resolved itself. It was larger than an Attacker, but was pretty much a destroyer in size. And he swore he had seen them in the images Abebech had recorded during the battle at the asteroid base.

Will looked up to see Zhen'var padding onto the bridge. He rose. "Captain on the Bridge!" Standing orders during Condition Red meant there was no response from the crew, except to note it. "Permission to report to the Secondary Bridge, Captain?" This was what kept him physically fit: He had approximately two minutes to reach secondary control before the ship finished buttoning up.

"Granted, go." Zhen'var moved to her command position, buckling in reflexively. Her eyes scanned the displays, and the running auto-log. "Incoming contacts may be presumed non-cooperative hostile, but do not fire until fired upon."

* * *

Lar'shan was swinging ahead to protect the runabout. He didn't like it, but they needed to investigate the contact. His four fighters were the very tip of his cruiser's defences, but he didn't know at all the strength of the enemy.

"There's sensor interference at 4090-X-2, possibly a doppler effect," Lead Two, 'Jaunty', reported tersely. As usual callsigns were chosen by others for maximum effect. Jaunty was very terse.

"Greenthumb, tighten up," Lar'shan ordered to the second element in the Lead Flight. "Uncharacterised distortion was encountered by the _Heermann_ as well."

"Roger, Lead One."

Lar'shan tapped open his comm to Prifly. "PriFly Actual, WC50 Actual. We've got interference undergoing a doppler shift around grid point 4090-X-2, triangulate please."

"We can't resolve it either, but … _WC50 Actual, Mobile Suits closing rapidly on your position! Six repeat six bogeys!"_

"Evasive!" Lar'shan snapped the controls on his Mongoose hard. The squadron began to separate by elements when the lancing of the beam weapons tore through them. Six mobile suits, each about twenty meters high, descended rapidly from the sun.

Their weapons slashed through shields like they weren't there, the Minovsky particle effect disrupting the cohesion of the shields. It made weapons which otherwise would not have been able to penetrate any kind of shielding immensely dangerous.

Before Lar'shan could finish a yaw turn to bring his guns to bear, he saw a flash of the beam weapons ripping down the flank of his wingman's Mongoose. They were coming from the distinctive, single red-painted Mobile Suit, and he acutely remembered in that moment the briefing.

 _Char Aznable, the Red Comet._

The stricken fighter raced on, the interior glowing as it vented plasma. "Jaunty, get out, _now_!" He had no time to spare as he sent his fighter screaming back on its original course, flipping the cover off his gun toggle. "This is WC50 Actual we are under attack by six bogeys and totally defensive we have lost Jaunty repeat we have lost Jaunty _I am engaging under ROE._ " Over to the flight comm. " _Fire Free_!"

"Lead Flight, SC4-2 is two minutes out at full burn!" Stasia's voice was welcome, but the battle would be _over_ in two minutes, and Lar'shan barely took the time to reassure himself that Jaunty's locator beacon was flashing.

One of the Mobile Suits flickered into view for a heartbeat through his violent banking turn. His eye flashed recognition, he had them in the targeting sensor for just a flash of green to red, but it was enough. A gloved finger twitched on the trigger. A burst of pulse phaser fire from the newest mark of Mongoose cannon opened up. Like a modern version of a gatling gun, a series of clustered emitters each briefly emitted energy in sequence to avoid overheating.

The silence of the firing was rewarded by the silence of the flash of light. The Mobile Suit he had targeted exploded, decisively and violently. Even that brief moment he had exposed himself, and without thinking about it more than a heartbeat, Lar'shan threw the throttle forward and accelerated at speeds vastly in excess of what any of the Mobile Suits could manage.

His training and instincts had been exactly right, as the beams of the Red Mobile Suit ripped through the position he would have been in at that moment with his prior velocity. Now it was five to… _Two._ His pulse quickened at the realisation that Kenosha was already down. Lar'shan snapped around so hard the Mongoose creaked around him.

" _Lead,_ this is Greenthumb, I am _totally defensive_! The Red Suit is tracking me!"

"Hang in there, I'm coming around!" Lar'shan began to complete his turn before, abruptly, he came under attack by three of the other Mobile Suits. Lar'shan made the difficult deflection chip-shot through his manoeuvre which destroyed another of the enemies, and then ripped past them faster than they could counter, tracking and firing at him, but not matching his constant little jerky jinks with the side manoeuvring thrusters.

He skidded out of the turn and threw the throttles back to full. It was just in time to be too late. Greenthumb had turned back onto the Red suit to engage, but at the last second the Red Comet had jinked to the side and activated… _a beam-sabre!?_...which neatly sliced the wing of the Mongoose off. The craft spun in circles, out of control with uneven thrust and mass. A moment later Greenthumb punched out, too, and Lar'shan was alone.

Alone, but not out of the fight. He fired immediately. Again, the Red Suit dodged, but this time, Lar'shan flicked himself out of the way, not to dare let himself come into close range. As he did, his acceleration quickly carried him far away from the four remaining Mobile Suits. The group of two surviving from his tangle with three moments ago were converging on the two, presumably the Red Comet and his wingman.

Lar'shan got a strangely quiet, intense expression, as he activated an open radio comm. "You are very good, but you have led these neophytes into an unfortunate situation," he said, and then cut his fighter hard over. Using acceleration and velocity he 'dove' on the two Mobile Suits at a speed so fast their computers registered his fighter as some kind of frighteningly fast anti-ship missile.

They were quite capable of engaging, and spun about to do so, but then he turned violently to the side and skewed the front of his Mongoose to face them, letting their targeting parameters show the wrong aspect ratio and fire wide. Choosing one, a single, quick burst of fire, again on deflection, blew it up.

"You may be the best fighter pilot I've ever seen, but don't you think that turn of acceleration is cheating?" The voice which came back over the open comm was speaking in cultured, polite English, with no particular accent.

"No more than your beam-sabre, Sir," Lar'shan replied as he skid-steered the Mongoose by varying the engine throttles and kicked her right back around to climb up from below the remaining Mobile Suit in the first group.

The Red Suit kicked up to three times the acceleration of the others, but it wasn't enough to bring him back into range in time. Lar'shan got a snap-lock with the laser seeker head option on one of his missiles which overcame the jamming from the drives on the Mobile Suits, and fired. The pilot detected it immediately and spun his suit to engage the missile, but that let Lar'shan buck his nose down as he continued upwards and again dispatch one of the suits in deflection.

Bringing his nose back up as rapidly as he could, he went to full power again to escape the abrupt onslaught of the Red Comet and his wingman. Pulling clear of their fire, he climbed high in the Z-axis relative to the plain the two Mobile Suits were holding, and then scanned through his sensors. The optical tracker and laser pointer on the targeting pod pinged the _Zanzibar_ as he did.

 _That should get their attention._ Lar'shan pointed his nose outward. "Cholita," he called the flight lead for 4-2. "Grab the coordinates for their mothership off my taclink and go for it. I want 'em scared."

"On it, boss." The four incoming Mongeese stayed at full power, curving toward the cruiser. The Red Comet, this far out, had no hope of rescue if he lost his mothership, and he had no choice but to lead into a full burn to interpose himself as the starfighters made for the cruiser.

As he did, Lar'shan pulled right and briefly made for the cruiser as he did. The Red Comet's wingman began to track him, but as he did, the angle allowed Lar'shan to identify the Mobile Suits by letting his targeting computer take the difference between the distortion and the spreading drive tails of the fresh flight of Mongeese. The result was a full salvo of his remaining missiles that he dove on in behind.

Both the Mobile Suits violently exploded into evasive manoeuvres and turned to target the missiles, shooting most down. As they did, Lar'shan came in hard and fast, targeting the Red Comet's wingman and taking him in a classic high-low pass as he was overwhelmed between missiles and the incoming fighter. A violent turn at the end carried him safely away from the Red Comet's beam sabre.

"Well," Lar'shan said a bit coldly into the open channel, not sure if all of his pilots had survived punching out, "now we're even."

The Red Comet's suit spun hard to the left, tracking and firing. "Call your friends off, alien," the voice answered. "I want this to be between just you and me."

There was only one thing for the son of the Champion-errant of the Dilgar War to do. He agreed. _Of course._ "Challenge met, Red Comet."

* * *

The _Huáscar_ was moving forward … _Carefully._ Once it had been clear that the weapons of the Mobile Suits, though low-powered, were firing directly through energy shields like they weren't there, Zhen'var had ordered the _Heermann_ to cloak and manoeuvre to an advantageous position and for a half-deck strike to be immediately readied. Though the firepower of the weapons was pitiful by multiversal standards, the lack of effective shielding was ominous.

"Captain, the analysis of the Minovsky field effect is being complicated by the interference it also generates to the sensors," Fera'Xero reported.. And then paused. "Wait, no, this structure _is_ known. Ancestors, Captain, Minovsky Radiation is Polaron radiation and those are _Polaron beams._ Low power, but the signature is exactly the same. That's why they're going through shields like they're not there. The fundamental physics of the weapons are identical to those used by the Dominion."

"Find a way to do _something_ about that, or we are going to be in a _great_ deal of trouble. Pass word to Engineering, the situation just got _much_ more complex. Data-packet to higher command as well." _Just in case the reinforcements end up having to be the ones avenging us._

"Pinging to engineering now, Captain," Fera'Xero replied.

Anna's voice came on a moment later. "Captain, I've got the information. We are _probably_ capable of considerable resilience anyway, because the self-healing armour is meant to endure much greater punishment than weapons of this energy output can deliver."

In front of Zhen'var on the viewscreen, the violent turning and firing of the Red Comet and Lar'shan continued. They were _still_ going at it, without one or the other getting the upper hand.

"We have already lost all but one of the CAP." Zhen'var replied to Ana, while she watched the tactical displays. "Prepare to open fire as soon as you have a lock, Tactical."

"...the Major's fighter is masking my optical targeting with that high rate of manoeuvre," Daria answered in frustration.

" _Captain,_ there has been a series of bulkhead subdivision failures on Decks One and Two. We're getting open blast door alarms," Anna's voice was suddenly worried, and confused, and not at all focused on the Minovsky field problem.

" _Fix them_ , and alert security in the event it is not a failure," Zhen'var replied, feeling terse.

"Understood, dispatching damage control teams, Captain, I think it's…"

Before anyone else could do anything, the doors to the bridge opened as alarms _howled_ down the corridors, warning of blast doors improperly opened at ZEBRA.

The Captain's hand flashed to the holster at her belt as she slapped the quick release on her restraints, reflexively rolling to the side. The first _Huáscar_ had led her to work out a drill with Fei'nur on how to respond personally in such an event, as her mind skidded off-track in sudden alarm.

Standing there in a humble Mumbai-style sari that she'd replicated for herself was Lalah Sune, her face filled with panic and utter intensity. " _Captain,_ you must contact Char! This is all a terrible misunderstanding!"

Elia had the most warning of anyone on the bridge except Daria, and at ops without orders was more free to act; she'd already risen and drawn her sidearm when the woman burst onto the bridge, shouting.

For a moment, the two gazed at each other-and both froze.

"Ops, do what you deem best." Zhen'var's voice came out over-controlled and flat as she kept her pistol trained on Sune from the deckplates. She _recognised_ that posture in Elia.

"Computer, Override ORX-149 Saumarez Priority Algeciras for the ZEBRA interlock on the Manual Astrogation Access Tube," Elia spoke sharply, and measured, and Lalah dashed to her side, wordlessly.

The small Mumbai woman flush up against her, Elia turned for the unlocking access hatch off the bridge, and began to climb with her through the doglegs in the armour, as fast as she could.


	14. Episode 3 Act 3

**Act Three**

Elia reached the top of the tube, and the beautiful dome with its precise optical instruments which could be used for navigation to the bridge in a true emergency, partially protected by heavy glacis plates flaring up from the armour over the bridge. She pulled herself to the top, helping Lalah with her.

Idly, as she spun the dome around based on the tracking information from the bridge, Elia wondered if she could put Lalah into a pair of gloves. The woman's nudity was profoundly embarrassing to her. The distraction quickly added to layers of embarrassment in an urgent time.

 _My apologies, Lalah,_ she offered, the woman having felt the sentiment that Elia offered in close proximity. She did not reply, her worry suffused through them both.

Now, they had the view of Lar'shan and Char's indecisive duel in close-up, and with that magnification, Lalah turned, her eyes widening in relief. Elia could feel that she hadn't believed that she would live, that any of this could work. She was hopeful, excited, even, that Char was alive, even as Elia could feel the connection with another, a young man named Amuro.

And then she felt Char. The two together in the astrogation dome meant that the contact leapt to both of them, something that, as they were in physical contact, they both felt. Char was electrifying. Not incredibly powerful, but still powerful, and more importantly clearly _there,_ and so _alive._

His burning passion was like a flame in his mind, his psyche was given over to the intensity of his emotions, pride, chivalry, revenge. And he felt her, too. The burning need to prove herself among mundanes, the lust for the stars and a ship under her boots. The years of oppression that her psyche were shaking off, like a ten thousand tonner shakes off a great wave, at first rolling under and seeming to be lost, and then rising and lunging forth in a vast mound of spray.

 _Char, break off. I live, I am fine, I was their guest._ Lalah's sentiment flashed through them both, even as Elia was embarrassed to have something of an instant crush on her young guest's boyfriend, a man only several dozen leagues higher in her estimation than her ex-husband, more or less instantly.

 _Mmn, it's all right,_ Lalah's mind was all laughter and confidence.

 _A human Newtype… From another universe,_ Char marveled for a moment. _Why did you come to us?_

 _To stop the killing. And you, Char, must stop now. Pull back. Make peace. Before it is too late,_ Elia answered.

 _You know she is right,_ Lalah added emphatically.

 _I want to see the end of this duel..!_

 _Shake his hand as a friend instead, and meet an alien of the same temper as your own soul. You have no quarrel with him, only the friendly rivalry of the joust._

The crew of the _Huáscar_ did not know what had happened, but abruptly the red Mobile Suit broke off. It spun away and burned hard for his cruiser _,_ and an open comm-link activated over radio channels to the _Huáscar_ from the tiny suit.

"This is Captain Char Aznable. I accept Commander Saumarez's offer of a truce. Contact me when I have returned to the _Zanzibar,_ and I will make arrangements to come aboard your ship to parley, and secure the return of Ensign Sune."

The _Zanzibar_ came alongside the _Huáscar_ about an hour later, slowing into position. The pilots of the three downed fighters had been recovered and the situation was stabilised, with the _Huáscar_ still at general quarters. She remained so until the transport took place; only once the _Zanzibar_ 's commander was aboard did Zhen'var feel safe authorising Condition Yellow. In the meanwhile, their Mha'dorn mental hygienist was personally watching over Lalah, after Elia had briefed Zhen'var.

The transporter Chief homed in on the designated position which was supplied by the Zeon cruiser a minute later, and beamed aboard one life sign. For the first time, in person, Zhen'var, Fei'nur, Marine Lieutenant Koi'sar of the Mha'dorn, and Daria saw this man, a living legend who had destroyed three fighters despite being massively outmatched in technological capability. A man who had arguably had achieved a miracle by not killing any of the three pilots in doing so, though how much was a result of the disparate technology and how much luck and blind chance was impossible to tell.

Char, for his part, looked at four aliens of two species. He was silent for a moment, in his samurai-styled helmet and mask over a red piloting uniform inscribed with the rising bird of Zeon. Then he removed his helmet and bowed politely. "I will test your sincerity, but I appreciate the hospitality nonetheless, Captain Zhen'var."

"Major Aznable, welcome aboard. I will _forebear_ comment on your attack on my fighter screen. Shall we adjourn to a conference room to discuss the return of the Ensign, and the general situation while we hold truce with each other?"

"Yes, that will be acceptable." He was as inscrutable as ever under his mask, but an almost radiating sense of poise, intensity, confidence came from him. He glowered a little even so. "Will Ensign Sune be present in the conference room, Captain?" Char added, pausing as they had started to walk from the transporter room.

"After the preliminary discussion, that is possible, Major. Verses and maths twirled inside her head, as Fei'nur gave him a glower right back, looking ready to flatten the _human_ who dared to act so."

"Very well." He started to walk again, regarding Fei'nur very calmly. His hidden eyes meant he revealed little, but his poise was of a similar ken to her own. "Your interuniversal technology is a marvel for the ages. The only astonishing thing was that I saw that humans still live on planets when Ensign Sune reached out to me. Really, with this technology you could build a thousand worlds for every one which is needlessly polluted by a human presence."

"There are some cultures which choose to live mostly in space, but most have emotional ties to the homeworld and usually have at least a managed population upon it. My people have had no choice." She kept her thoughts tightly guarded, whirling nonsense about her head to provide the best blocks a mundane could.

"Yes… _Emotional_ ties." He said no more in response, though the word implied, not truly dismissiveness, but perhaps a frustration. And then they were in one of the conference suites, with food prepared. Nah'dur was waiting for them. By a certain level of irony, none of the humans in the crew were available for the meeting, they could not be spared from their duties.

"Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, Major. Please, sit." She moved to her own chair, as Fei'nur moved to stand at readiness beside her. "We have some _basic_ understanding of the situation from Ensign Sune."

"She's not stupid, Captain," Char replied levelly before moving to sit, folding his legs and seeming unconcerned. "The reality is this: Earth abused the Spacenoids, negotiated a treaty with them, and then engineered terrorist attacks as cover for altering that treaty in their favour. Everyone knows it, nobody can prove it, and the Earth Federation uses a shield of lies to justify its behaviour toward the space colonies. As much to liberate the people of Earth from a rapacious kleptocracy did Zeon go to war as to secure the independence of the Spacenoids. It would be better if _everyone_ was a Spacenoid, Captain."

"They are not. And there is the matter of the kinetic bolide attacks, Major." She folded her hands before her, interlacing her fingers. "They are unacceptable to my government, as is the ongoing mass death amongst the non-combatant population."

What of Char's face was visible ceased to have any expression at all. "What are you intending to do about it, Captain?"

"Preferably to broker a mutually acceptable cease-fire leading to an armistice." Zhen'var spoke levelly. Her orders were not exceptionally _palatable_ to her, but they did not rise to the level of her feeling a moral imperative to disobey.

"Is that all you're going to do? It seems like you'd rather threaten Zeon," Char replied. It was _true,_ but the chance of it being his reading her mind was quite unlikely; it was inference from the dribs and drabs of surface emotions, and being a canny judge of people anyway. "Do you have orders from your government? What is your real intention?"

"I have no interest in threatening Zeon, nor intentions to do so." That was, by a narrow reading, true. She had been given orders to broker or force a peace that allowed prosecutions for war crimes… something she thought was intended to force her into battle.

"Well then, what about Zeon's… _leadership_?"

"We are discussing an armistice and my own services in brokering one, Major. Not a peace treaty."

Char's eyes narrowed for a moment. "Captain, I hope you realise that I certainly lack any authority to agree to an armistice."

"Perhaps you should understand that I do not take kindly to mass murder, Major," Zhen'var replied. "Nor does my government. Zeon is in an unenviable position, and if you are not able to negotiate, it would be wise for you to reach out to someone who can."

"The House of Zabi will not be inclined to an agreement," Char replied almost drolly. "I believe I know what the Alliance wants, at any rate. I understand something of your government from Commander Saumarez."

"I'm sure if you had such a meeting of the minds that Commander Saumarez understands a great deal of you personally as well, Major. That is a two way street for telepaths, as you are doubtless aware-and so am I," Zhen'var answered. "Will her words verify your own?"

Char stiffened, and opened his mouth to reply. As he did, an alarm trilled in the room. Will's voice came from the bridge. "Captain, an Earth Federation vessel is approaching on an attack vector. We have identified it as the _White Base._ "

"An attack vector…" Zhen'var pushed her chair back and rose immediately. "Lieutenant Seldayiv, you are excused from your general quarter. Please remain here as Major Aznable's hostess."

"Captain, send me out with your Major Lar'shan, I can certainly fight them at your side!" Char exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

"That will be quite enough, Major Aznable. You will wait here. I have _no intention_ of fighting them." She spun on heel, and strode from the room.

Captain Noa was staring at the sensor returns, not patient but calm. He was thinking. Gone were any symptoms of hesitation. What he was seeing was unambiguously from beyond Earth-sphere. He could see it in the flowing lines so unlike those of any of the spindly craft of Federation or Zeon, or even the form of the White Base herself. And the size… _The size_!

"She's onboard the big ship," Amuro explained.

Bright Noa was no Newtype, but he had had a feeling that was going to be the case. That didn't make the situation easy, after all, so it was the most likely outcome. The unknown ship was more than two and a half times the length of a _Degwin,_ utterly dwarfing anything except a station. Too lean, too much power, to be anything except a ship. If that vessel was Zeonic, the pursuit had been necessary, and had also exposed the White Base to almost certain destruction.

The likelihood of it being Zeonic was high, because of the _Zanzibar_ -class cruiser laying close off of her. It was that combination which settled the scene for Bright. Sayla and Amuro had been right, and now the war hung in the balance. "Pilots, prepare to go to your stations. They have certainly already detected us."

Amuro turned toward Bright instead. "Captain, they're _not_ Zeon."

"They're certainly acting like it, _Ensign,_ and the slightest hesitation might mean our deaths."

Sayla, too, hesitated, looking sharply at Captain Noa.

"Don't tell me you think they're.."

"They're extrauniversal," Amuro said, _feeling_ through the link what Lalah felt, what she felt now. "They are, Captain. We just need to tell them the truth about the Federation and Zeon!"

"This is a risk to the entire ship and the entire Federation. If you're…"

"Captain," Fraw Bow looked up, urgently. "They're hailing us, and you've got to see it to believe it! Their Captain is an alien!"

"What?" Bright hesitated for a moment, looked to the two Newtypes next to him. _If…_ "Put it on," he ordered simply. The future of the Federation might truly be at stake.

"I am Captain Zhen'var of the Alliance vessel _Huáscar_." The face looking out of the viewscreen was _assuredly_ an alien one, feline eyes piercingly fixing on Captain Noa. "Earth Federation ship, I shall defend myself if necessary, but I do not mean to take offensive action against you. Please advise of your intentions."

"...We are pursuing anticipated Zeon contacts, Captain Zhen'var," Bright answered. He wanted to think this was some kind of trick by Zeon, but that… That was an alien that he was looking at. _First contact._ "I am Captain Bright Noa of the _White Base,_ Earth Federation Space Forces. I had _not_ anticipated a foreign vessel to be laying alongside a Zeon cruiser. Earth is in the middle of a grave and terrible war, Captain."

"I am aware. I am charged with my government with bringing an end to the mass deaths of civilians at any hazard. The Zeon cruiser is under truce to negotiate with myself, I extend to you and your ship the same courtesy."

"You won't be able to hold a truce with Zeon if you intend to halt the mass death of civilians, Captain. We are in the midst of serious military operations from which I cannot detach the _White Base_ for long. If you can guarantee that the Zeon vessel will not reenter hostilities, then I will withdraw back to my operational duties and leave you to keep their peace," Bright replied. "This will also give the Earth Federation an opportunity to make appropriate preparations and assign Ministry staff to meeting your own representatives."

"I include Zeon civilians in that charge, Captain Noa." Zhen'var's expression did not flinch as she regarded the man before her. She would not be _used_ by one side in an attempt to gain advantage.

"The Earth Federation stands for the principles of universal sapient rights. We will not destroy Zeon's habitats in the same way they have ruthlessly attacked those of Loyal Sides and even Neutral ones. They gassed the inhabitants of three Colonies in preparation for Operation British, Captain Zhen'var. Sixty million dead, they killed five of their own Spacenoids for every person who perished in the..." He trailed off, not sure how to explain the Holocaust to an alien and not sure he wanted to, and unsure of what the ship's name and the humans on the bridge meant for how much of human history this alien woman knew.

"It is true that Zeon's leadership has committed great crimes in the pursuit of a goal their people supported."

"Are you telling me, then, that you would stand between the Earth Federation and the successful conclusion of this bloodshed?" Captain Noa, in no way, wished to admit how young and inexperienced he actually was.

"If necessary, but I would prefer not to be forced to precipitous action, Captain." The Dilgar woman watched him warily through the pickup, taking measure of her opposite number. "My understanding of the situation is still incomplete."

The young blonde and blue-eyed woman in uniform at his side stepped forward. "Captain, we need to make sure they understand or anything we do…"

Bright held up his hand. "That's enough, Flying Officer. Yes, Captain Zhen'var, I will bring a delegation aboard your ship to meet with you and explain the situation, understanding, I trust, that time is short. If you could help with our burn back toward middle-band orbits, I could guarantee you enough time to resolve this. We have plenty of evidence of the crimes of Zeon, and the Earth Federation is prepared to negotiate fairly with your nation."

The woman's expression was thoughtful, before she nodded once. "For now, that is provisionally acceptable. Fall in at my starboard side." _At least then I will separate the two._

Bright nodded, and looked a little relieved. "Very well. Helm, stand by to come about to starboard and commence a burn to one klick off the starboard beam of the _Huáscar_!"

Mirai Yashima's competent and eager voice answered crisply. "Aye-aye, Sir!"

"When we are in position, I will comm again to make arrangements to quickly come aboard," Bright promised. "Thank you, Captain."

When the screen blinked out, Arterus shook his head. "Elements, Captain. They're all so _young._ "

"The pre-war cadres were likely wiped out. These are the ensigns and cadets who had to step up to lead when all else was lost. We knew the same by the time of Third Balos, Commander."

Elia shot a quiet look to her Captain. Once, a long time ago in another life and another country, _she_ had been one of those cadets, thrown in when all else was lost. Though she would not, now, allude to it, her friend could tell from the tenor of Zhen'var's voice that a little bit of her memories of the Line had crept in, bleeding out of that medal on her chest.

With the situation what it was, Elia was sent to greet the cadre from the _White Base_ when they beamed aboard. Bright, Sayla, and Amuro, they could spare no-one else, and Bright Noa wanted the people who had _felt_ the crazy events which had led him here, directly at his side.

Elia came to attention. "Captain Noa. I am Commander Elia Saumarez, representing Captain Zhen'var for the Allied Systems Vessel _Huáscar._ "

"No salut… Commander Saumarez. Forgive me, you have different customs, of course. The Captain is still meeting with representatives of Zeon?"

"Representative-but yes. This way, please."

 _You're a Newtype too!? From another universe!?_ Amuro's bright mental voice and the spillage of thoughts, including ones about Lalah, made Elia blush.

 _Discipline, young man,_ she sent back. _Don't bloop all over the place._

 _Blooping? What's … oh._ He caught the mental sense of it and clamped down, looking embarrassed.

In a few minutes, the three Earth Federation officers drew up sharp and short to see Char Aznable lounging in a chair and snacking on satay and tea, in the flesh.

When Elia saw the look that passed between the masked man and Sayla Mass, she stiffened. More than a look had passed between them. So had a bond. Amuro, with his awakened powers but something of a sense of obliviousness, caught it but did not understand the significance. _Koi'sar, they have a long history,_ she glyphed to the other Mha'dorn.

"Captain Zhen'var? I'm Captain Noa, and this is Flight Officer Sayla Mass and Ensign Amuro Ray."

"Captain, Ensign, Flight Officer. Please, sit. What would you prefer for refreshment? I understand time is important for both sides, we are preparing to alter course towards the inner orbits as we speak." She remained polite, watching the Earth group carefully.

"She wants to negotiate a peace," Char said, faintly bemused. "Dangerous woman, though. Has a very dangerous pilot onboard."

Amuro and Sayla looked at each other.

 _Anything at all you want, we can generate through matter replication,_ Elia explained.

"... Oh, some Chinese tea, then," Amuro specified after a moment.

"Moroccan mint tea," Sayla said very softly.

Nah'dur shot a look at the young woman-and another at Char, who had asked for the exact same beverage and was currently drinking it.

Zhen'var nodded to the steward at the replicator then, and folded her hands before her. "Peace is an _optimal_ outcome, yes. Major Aznable and Ensign Sune have thus far given me the point of view of the Duchy."

"A tyranny founded on a base perversion of the principles of Zeon Zum Deikun and on his own murder," Sayla said sharply. Char didn't interject. "A ruthless, scheming family, half clinically insane, who eliminated the founder, entrenched totalitarian hereditary rule blatantly, and then executed a war of mass murder, from start to finish, without the slightest constraint of human rights except those forced upon them. A humiliation and a shame to Spacenoids everywhere and an utter perversion of the true objective of Contolism."

"Perhaps. The _people_ of Zeon will need to decide their future path once the war is brought to an end, that is a matter we can find agreement within, I hope." Sipping at her tea, she gathered her thoughts behind the swirling cloud of mantras that protected them from the Newtypes that filled the room. "A return to early principles for the Sides would not be unacceptable to the Federation, I expect?"

"An agreement on governance was signed, and the Federation as always upheld it," Bright answered.

"That…" Sayla trailed off, silencing herself in the face of her superior officer.

"Is not quite true," Char continued smoothly. "It's not the real agreement, Captain Noa, everyone knows that, it's just that nobody can prove it. The Federation _has_ committed _many_ crimes against Spacenoids."

Noa gritted his teeth.

Amuro leaned forward. "Captain Zhen'var, ma'am… Where is Lalah Sune? We followed her here, is she all right?" The name came to him naturally.

"She's _fine,_ " Char interjected. "We are talking about serious matters, Ensign Ray. The Newtypes of this vessel are caring for her until we come to an agreement, and I want to get her released." There was a warning glare even with the mask.

The Dilgar woman at the head of the table glanced between the persons present. "The matter is both serious and time-critical, none can doubt that, but _you_ are the ones present representing your nations. Peace is an _ideal_ , but I _will_ intervene directly if we cannot reach agreement."

"You will, will you?" Char straightened in his chair.

"I can feel that she will," Amuro countered, glaring at him.

"Look, there are two different interests here," Sayla said abruptly, her mind made up. "There's the House of Zabi, and there's the people of Zeon. And nobody here can make an agreement for the House of Zabi, nor should they, but…"

Char pushed himself to his feet. _Sayla, stop! You'll ruin…_

Elia stared at him, and abruptly he felt a constricting block bringing his own uneven power to a sharp halt.

"...But _he_ can make an agreement for the People of Zeon," Sayla continued, pointing a finger at Char. "Because he's Casval Rem Deikun, the eldest child of Zeon Zum Deikun. Don't try to stop me, Casval, I know why you've been living this lie and it's just going to get you killed and all that's left of father's dream destroyed! Here's your chance! The Zabi are finished if this ship intervenes, don't deny it, _here's your chance_!"

"Officer Mass!" Bright leapt to his feet.

"Call me by my real name," she said softly, so very, very softly that it was almost a whisper. "Call me Artesia Som Deikun. Casval's safe now, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter…" She sank back into her own seat, as the pandemonium washed over them all.

An audible growl came from the woman at the head of the table; " _I shall have silence! "_

The room's noise drifted away until a pin could be heard dropping. People looked around the table in varying degrees of shock, bewilderment or confusion.

"You told me he was your brother, Sayla," Bright said softly, finally, into the quiet. "But…"

"Well. It seems we have a possibility for peace." Her eyes turned to the man who she had known as Char Aznable. "My _orders_ are to ensure that no peace _prevents_ the trial of those responsible for either ordering or committing war crimes." The glare she was giving the man softened slightly as her thoughts fell into place, by how the man spoke before. "You _are_ intending to avenge your father and his dream on the Zabi leadership, are you not?"

"Well, two of them are already gone," he answered mildly. "Are you prepared to make an agreement, Captain Zhen'var? Because I can certainly help. Gihren's defence plan around A Bao a Qu includes equipment the Federation is unprepared to face."

"What are they planning?!" Amuro's eyes widened.

"Agreement first," Char chuckled, ignoring Bright's stiff-necked look.

Zhen'var looked at the man's covered eyes with a firm, level expression. "We can reach an agreement. I expect it to be respected in _spirit_ as well as letter."

"I want the House of Zabi destroyed," Char finally admitted, explicitly. "So far I have seen only two of them fall. There are three left. But I will not permit the destruction of Zeon."

"I have come to a similar conclusion, Major. I am given to understand that the two children are unequivocally guilty of sufficient crimes to see them fl… given a death sentence by any rational court. Do you agree with that assessment, Captain Noa?"

"There's a lot more than just those two…" He stiffened. He wasn't being asked that question, and he didn't have the authority to lay down the law here. "Yes, we can unambiguously provide plenty of evidence to hang both Gihren Zabi and Kycilia Zabi. And Sovereign Degwin, of course, bears total command responsibility."

"He may be of the age where a greater revenge would be taking his children from him." She shrugged, glancing to Nah'dur. It was a very _Dilgar_ thought, as she had decided upon her course, then turned upon it with an iron will. "If you accept this, Major, then we have the basis of an agreement. _Now_ is the time for objections from _anyone_ here."

"There are none. If the Zabis are killed and Casval reveals himself, he can negotiate an equitable peace for Zeon. The people will follow him and are exhausted by war," Artesia said flatly. "Already, he is the only man who could launch a coup d'etat. This removes the risk of failure, but we must act quickly. Brother, what are they planning at A Bao a Qu?"

"I want a guarantee that actions against the Zabi family will not negatively impact the peace… Status-quo antebellum for Zeon," he observed, looking to Bright.

"Do whatever you want to those monsters, _Casval,_ " Bright answered. "But you know I can't speak for the government. Still, Zeon was independent when the war started. You can't deny that."

"Just strangled in a blockade. But that won't happen again, either." He glanced significantly to Zhen'var.

"I have called for, and have reinforcements on the way to assist my command as we speak. The Alliance will look favourably on bringing both _nations_ into the multi-versal trade and diplomatic community." She used that word _quite_ deliberately as she replied to his look. Captain Zhen'var had long since exceeded her original intentions, but saw it as the best solution. "I shall assist with surgical strikes, Major, to ensure that the criminals do not escape. You have my _word_ upon my clan to this."

"Very well, Captain. I trust your word." Casval looked around the table. "Zeon has been completing work on a fusion torch generator which can wipe out an entire fleet, called the Solar Ray. They're going to ambush your attack on A Bao a Qu with it. That's what the plan is."

"I think we have our first surgical strike target, do you agree, Commander Saumarez?" Zhen'var's expression was a calculating one, as she tapped a few keys before her, to bring up the holo-projector with a local tactical display.

"A Bao a Qu, the monster that guards the tower," Elia murmured, and leaned in to her own interface. "Yes, Captain. I believe we do."

There was no love between the living children of Degwin Zabi. There probably hadn't been since Kycilia had been six, and seen the way her older brothers had been treated versus herself. _Garma,_ Garma she had cared for. Garma had loved her. Dozle had been an oaf promoted to an undeserved level.

Gihren, she simply held in contempt, waiting for the moment when she would prove herself better than he was. In this moment, however, they needed each other. For a little while longer, at least.

"Brother."

"Kycilia, false kindness doesn't suit you," Gihren turned. The command and control facilities on A Bao a Qu were immense and superb for the battle to come. "Aznable has not returned from the attempt to intercept the alien vessel. Our long-range optical scanners have located, but it's certainly moved since the last pass and the coverage isn't good enough. I've been holding the Solar Ray in reserve accordingly."

"What would you use it on?" Kycilia looked up. "Father has been negotiating with the Earth Federation Fleet for twelve hours now. It's quite likely he has an agreement, or else the truce would have already broken off and the Earth Federation would have attacked."

"An intolerable agreement," Gihren sneered. "But it won't matter. The Solar Ray is better turned on the alien vessel. When we capture a true interstellar ship, we will have _plenty_ of time at Axis before the Federation can advance on it to reverse engineer the vessel and counterattack. There will be no mercy then, we will have the resource base necessary to scour Earth of all human life. The strong will migrate, and the weak will perish."

"I agree that it's necessary to capture the alien vessel if we're going to survive," Kycilia answered. "However, that means _capturing_ it. Can we be sure firing the Solar Ray at it won't result in its complete annihilation?"

"Our finest scientists have already analyzed the spectral readings from the optical observation. The hull is made of astronomically thick material. And the Minovsky charge on the laser is used in power storage only. We will have to burn through the shields, but we certainly have the power to do it. After that, we will need their interstellar drive disabled at close range, of course."

"That will require the use of a mobile suit in the finest hands. A powerful one. And we don't have Char available, whatever has happened to him."

"Send Kusko Al with the MSN-02," Gihren replied simply.

"She was training to operate a MSN-08," Kycilia replied. "Johnny Ridden is our best pilot available."

"She'll be fine. Your precious Ridden isn't a Newtype and can't possibly use the MSN-02 to its full effectiveness. What I need from you now, Sister, is warning. The Solar Ray will be capable of disabling the enemy vessel's shields as it comes in, then we will send in Mobile Suits at close range to cripple it and board. The fleet will cover the evacuation of the prize to Axis. However, a surprise attack on the Solar Ray…"

"You'll have enough warning to engage. But I need to speak with Kusko Al, now. The MSN-02 is ready for launch, and I will need to cover the situation and the technology if this is the course you take."

"Very well, I release her to her assignment, you had access to the Dash 02 anyway. But understand that she _must_ be in position when the enemy vessel's shields have failed."

"You have no cause to mistrust me, Gihren." She whirled on heel and strode out.

Gihren waited until she was gone, and then chuckled softly. "For now," he said softly.

It wasn't long until one of his officers approached, and saluted. " _Sieg Zeon_! This delay has proved quite fortuitous, Excellency. We have completed testing of the Solar Ray and several critical power couplings for the re-charging cycle had deficiencies corrected."

"Very good then." Gihren grinned. "We shall have the ability to fire in close succession?"

"Now that these repairs have been made, certainly, Excellency."

"Then it appears we have a little surprise waiting for the Federation as well. Excellent. As soon as we receive confirmation of the approach of the alien vessel, target and fire on warning. There is no purpose in delaying."

Sometimes dealing with the aftermath of an engagement was a nightmare, with wounded and slain and torn metal everywhere. On a carrier, it could be bad when damaged aircraft crashed aboard, beyond the other dangers which attended to any ship under direct attack-and a carrier need not be under direct attack.

Stasia was guzzling coffee in front of one of the more mundane but true pain in the ass moments she'd ever dealt with in the aftermath of an engagement. They'd lost three fighters but had three pilots back aboard alive. And they were going to be entering a severe test of the ship within a matter of hours. Well, obviously the Captain wanted the wing at full strength. She played with the ponytail she had sticking through the back of her CE7 _Huáscar_ baseball cap (complete with a stylized image of the ship!) and tried to figure out what the hell to do next. Then the entire thing let loose, and Stasia winced.

"Motherfucker," Chief Dugan said, standing next to her in a matching baseball cap and watching two of their guys go tumbling out of the null grav zone and slam into the deck. They were in full protective gear, but… "Motherfucker." He sat his coffee down on a crash start cart and jogged over, yelling into his omnitool. "Corpsman to main fighter hangar, Corpsman to main fighter hangar!"

Spare Mongeese were stored on the _roof_ of the hangar, between the main structural frame beams. Their fins and wings were stored in the main cargo bays, and already having been moved by cargo repulsor carts from the cargo bays to the hangar.

The problem was that the authorized way down for the fighters hanging in the roof was to set up a null-grav field generator under them and then uncouple them from the roof and gently push them down to the deck. This worked fine when there was plenty of time, but there wasn't, and men were botching securing the hooks in fine form to haul them down to the ground, with this last group having fallen ten feet when they caroomed outside of the null grav field.

Stasia shook her head as Chief Dugan made sure that the men were stable for the Corpsman to arrive. They were probably fine, but of course he wanted to make absolutely sure before he chewed their dumb asses out. Now her problem was to still finish getting the last two reserve fighters they needed down from the roof to where her teams of technicians could finish assembling and upchecking in time to join the battle.

Stasia was doing manual controls for traffic around the null-grav field, but now she blocked the entire approach off and jogged over to PO Alvarez, one of the aircraft handling personnel who was operating the null-grav. "Just turn it off, turn it off."

"Right, Chief." He shook his head. "Who thought this was a good idea, Chief?"

"Fuck all if I know," Stasia answered, and walked over to where the Corpsman had now arrived to check the two crewers who had fallen. "Looking forward to that NSF-110, Rick?" She couldn't resist needling him about the accident report form.

"Oh, you betcha. _You betcha,_ " he grumbled. "They're both fine…"

"...But we've got to fill it out anyway. Later. Maybe we'll get blasted to hell first and won't have to worry about it."

"Now that's my Tlingit chick talkin'."

"Maritime Highway all the way, baby," Stasia answered, shaking her head. "Look, Rick, I've got a plan. I'm interfacing with the computer on the stored fighter, we're going to have it drop the gear with the null-grav shut off, and we're just going to throw a fucking grappling iron into the landing carriage, get an eye pulley onto the tie down point, and then haul it down from outside the null-grav field. Once it's back on. How's that sound?"

"Aand that's why you were an officer on a ferry and I was just hauling motherfuckers drinking in the turret control room on a _Nova_ up to the Captain for an NJP _._ Yeah, that might just do it. Look, Stasia, if it even vaguely resembles spotting cars onto a boat, I'm lettin' ya do it, no questions asked." He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look innocent.

Stasia laughed. "Yeah, you just go right on letting me be in charge. Left-right, left-right and all of that shit." She tapped the control-commands into her omnitool and watched the gear on the two fighters drop and lock on the roof. Then she tapped open a channel. "Major Kel'dar?"

"...Chief Héen?"

"Sir, do you have anyone who's good at grappling shit?"

As final preparations were completed, the _Huáscar,_ her situation more certain, had recalled the _Heermann_ for a check of systems before attack launch. When she did, Abebech had gone to Café Varna, her helmswoman tagging along after her. The Attacker's commander settled herself at the bar.

" _Karvavitsa,_ " she instructed to Alexandra. The woman widened her gaze.

" _Karvavitsa?_ See, now here is a woman of taste."

"And coffee, good, traditional style, hmm? But tea for the young L'tenant."

"Yes, yes." Alexandria hastened off.

Abebech smiled. "You'll love it, I'm certain," she offered to Ca'elia, before looking across to a small knot of people at one of the tables. It was Char Aznable-Casval Rem Deikun-with his sister Artesia, and Lalah Sune. Char looked quietly reserved between the two as they carried on an animated conversation.

"I am certain I will, ma'am." She glanced around with brilliant green eyes, the idea of something like _this_ being on a starship was still almost inconceivable. Almost as much so as asking what karvavitsa _was_ ….

"The House of Deikun," Abebech observed softly. "They are like nobility themselves, pure and clear in spirit and much better heirs of Zeon than those that took their father's memory."

"They went through a crucible that would have seen them destroyed if they stayed, so they learned how to be more than a name. Dilgar nobility did the same, Captain."

"Learning how to be more than a name is very hard," Abebech replied quietly. The food came out for them, blood sausage in the traditional Thracian style.

Waiting for her commander to start before she sliced into hers, Ca'elia's eyes lit up. "It's so _rich,_ it just melts in your mouth. This is wonderful, ma'am! _"_

"Mmm-hmm, quite delightful, really, L'tenant." Abebech was smiling. The moment lasted at least a little while. Then Amuro Ray entered. The conversation over at the table grew still, as Char looked up.

Amuro ducked his head away, focused on Abebech, and made a beeline for where she was sitting, with a purposeful stride. "You're the Newtype I felt on the _Heermann._ Who rescued Lalah."

"Yes, Ensign, I am," Abebech said.

"I still don't feel right, I knew doom, and then it was snatched away," he answered, hesitantly sitting at the bar.

"Alexandra, kindly get the lad a beer," Abebech said, and glanced over with sunglassed eyes, as concealed as Char's. The similarity did not pass unnoticed.

Amuro stared at the table, where the three were now again talking, but in more subdued tones. "I feel like something terrible was supposed to happen and then it was snatched away," he elucidated.

"Prescience is an inexact science in the best of times, but worst of all when you try to analyze the impact of one universe on another," Abebech replied. "It will fade. _Living,_ lad, has that effect on all of us. Sometimes it seems very strange, to still be alive. I expect Ensign Sune is dealing with more of it than you, for she was the one who faced down death." She turned back to her sausage.

L'tenant Ca'elia still looked to the young man, before she picked up another piece of her food. "It's best not to worry about paths not taken. Temporal mechanics and causality were enough to give a headache every time they came up in class."

He smiled at the surprising warmth by the alien. "Thank you. I'm still trying to come to terms with it all." He was only halfway done with the beer when he rose, having made his mind up. "I'm going to go talk to her," he said, and started off.

Behind his back, Abebech exchanged a look with Ca'elia. She suspected the young Dilgar could figure out where this was headed as well as she could.

She leaned over to whisper in the quietest Dilgar she could, "Captain, what should I do if they start throwing punches…?"

"Oh, don't worry, we'd have some fun then, but I think there's only one chance in ten," Abebech answered back softly. Her lips curved into a wicked grin, though; the question had genuinely amused her.

"Lalah," Amuro began. "I still can't believe the connection that we had together, even when facing each other like we did. I think it was something…"

"Meant to happen? Yes," Lalah continued his sentence for him. "It was meant to happen. I've been speaking about it with Char and Artesia. We share something, and it was unique."

Amuro managed a smile. "I thought that I had already lost you when I realised you had been saved. Come back with me to the _White Base_ when this is over, then."

"No," Lalah answered. "I made my decision to die for Char already, Amuro. What passed between us as Newtypes isn't going to change that. Surviving unexpectedly because of something beyond the fate of this universe isn't going to change that either. Amuro, there's so much we don't understand… But a girl doesn't fall in love because of a cosmic sense of perfection. That's just the way it is in Bollywood, not in a living heart. Char saved me when my life was hopeless, we've shared things that nobody else can understand, too. I value loyalty in who I am, in my culture. There are things that … You can, and will, value more than a single moment of ineffable connection with another. I want to keep those things with Char."

Amuro stared in shock, and then shot a glare at Char that looked like it could have turned him to ash on the spot. "You've had so long…"

"Amuro!" Sayla-Artesia, but he wouldn't be able to deal with that for months, or years-snapped. "Come on now. Lalah is a free woman, being a Newtype, these mysteries we are learning together, can't change that. The connection you shared with her, and I'm sorry my friend, just doesn't change the fact that she wants to spend time with Char, to love him, _anyway._ "

"You're just saying that because he's your brother, Sayla!" Utterly hurt, and spent, Amuro watched in a kind of emotional funk as Char rose, and in a courtly gesture, took Lalah's hand and helped her to her feet.

"She's saying that because she's smarter and more rational than both of us," Char interjected. "Ensign, with all due respect, I'm not upset about the fact that you share a Newtype bond with my girlfriend… And you need to figure out how to deal with the fact that the woman you share a Newtype bond with is _my girlfriend._ "

"Our souls are connected, Amuro," Lalah whispered. "But I am my own woman." Together with Char, she walked over to where Abebech and Ca'elia were sitting.

Sayla reached out and pulled Amuro down to a seat. "Come on," she half-hissed. "That's her decision, if you're bonded so close, Amuro, you must respect it. Here, I never thought I'd say this in my life to you, but they've got some hard stuff here…"

By that point, Lalah had arrived at Abebech's side. "Commander Imra, I did not have a true opportunity to thank you yet for saving my life."

"It's fine, I've saved the lives of many Espers before, and I've also failed many times," Abebech replied, looking down at the plate she had just finished. "I take my opportunities where they come, and I long ago learned to leave the failures behind. None of it is personal to me. I am merely glad you are alive, whereas if I had not intervened, you would be dead, and no good would have come it."

"I will honour the fact that you saved me nonetheless. But if that is really all that you desire… Commander, we must talk about the Flanagan Institute."

Abebech reached over and slid Amuro's half-finished beer in front of her, calmly quaffing a solid half of what was left at once. Amuro, watching from the table with Sayla, stared wide-eyed at the gesture.

"Yes, Ensign Sune, let's talk about the Flanagan Institute," she said, oh so quietly.


	15. Episode 3 Act 4

**Act Four**

An hour later, Zhen'var's ready room door trilled and the computer introduced two names rarely heard at once. "Commander Abebech Imra and Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez." There had been a software "update" which had put the computer back on the default of announcing visitors, and Zhen'var hadn't yet found a way to shut it off again.

Looking up from her desk and the pads there, the Captain's expression darkened. "Enter!" _This cannot bode well if they approach jointly._

"Captain," they chorused, both standing at attention before Zhen'var. Elia took a half-step forward. "Captain," she repeated. "Lalah Sune has told us some critical information which Char-Casval-broadly confirmed, about the Flanagan Institute that Zeon was running in neutral Side 6 territory. The experiments…" She grimaced, "included uploading telepaths against their will into command and control systems and other forms of human experimentation broadly like that the Shadows conducted. _Worse,_ the individual responsible for this line of research appears to have defected to the Earth Federation-which uncritically perpetuated research into the technology."

"Then we need to stop it, without alerting those who would attempt to hide this man and allow him to escape justice."

"Fortunately, Dr. Moses himself was killed in a Zeon operation after his defection," Abebech explained. "I doubt that will stop the research. Furthermore, there is another aspect to it as well. The institute may be near a way to create artificial Newtypes-to modify someone to have Esper senses. Need I say what the dissemination of this technology could do to the multiverse, Captain? It is precisely what I first feared when I came to you."

"While I find the end result something that does not horrify me, the resulting _response_ … we are going to have to stretch ourselves very thin to do all these things, Commanders. I think they must be done, the question is how many do we attempt at once?"

"We could raid the Flanagan Institute with a single ship, the _Heermann…_ Or Casval's _Zanzibar,_ so we don't force them to fight their own people," Elia suggested. "Use the science shuttles, they have transporters and warp drive to scout ahead and can increase her speed by tractor beam assistance, while offering us nothing in a fight."

"We will use the _Zanzibar_ with a liason officer and support from ourselves. Regime loyalists of Zeon _will_ likely fight us, I believe… I _do_ intend to, if it comes to it, to let him pull the trapdoor lever. I was truthful with him. His soul will not rest until he has his revenge, and denying him it would make us an un-necessary foe."

"We accrue no immorality by allowing him to act against the House of Zabi," Abebech replied emphatically. "The only question is taking care that he can lead Zeon to peace when it is all said and done."

"His sister seems far more likely to be able to do that, if we may be honest amongst ourselves here," Zhen'var answered with a shake of her head.

"Granted," Abebech smiled, and reached out a gloved hand to Elia's. The woman squeezed it and then took another step to Elia's desk.

"Captain, as I discussed with Commander Imra… I feel this mission is very important. Yes, the government wants us to save life, all life. And that's important. But the beginning of fear, oppression, and utilization; the cycle has started for Newtypes here and we need to disrupt it decisively. Many of the researchers at the institute, like this Dr. Moses, were deeply bigoted men, Ensign Sune has made that clear. I know it will be a disruption to the ship going into battle, however, I want permission to take the _Zanzibar_ to Side Six. After what happened back on Babylon 5… I need to make sure this gets right, Captain. For _us_."

It only took a moment before Zhen'var nodded. "Permission is granted, Commander Saumarez. You may take _Zanzibar_ to Side Six. It is the right thing to do, disruption or not. I am not going to deny you the chance to make such a change in the development of this place."

"The Independent Command," Elia smiled. "Thank you, Captain."

"I am sure you will do well, Commander. I suggest you get to it, and speak with Casval. He will have some insights on the crew, and a change such as this will disrupt their cohesion. Fei'nur can provide an assault team for you."

"I'll need it to maintain the ship under our control as much as to hit the institution. Thank you, Captain. I'll be about it."

"Good hunting, Captain Saumarez. It will not be Algeciras, but everyone has to start somewhere."

 _Damn the regs._ Elia came to attention and saluted, Dilgar style. "Battlemaster, I will bring honour to my command. Place me on leave from my Alliance service, the Warmaster will not mind the wrath of a single world without lightspeed drives and we will make our name well-respected here."

"Permission granted, Battle Expert. You had best get into proper uniform quickly. Time is short."

* * *

An hour later, Elia was on the bridge of the _Zanzibar_ in magnetic boots and a Dilgar Battle Expert's Naval uniform, contrasting with the Army uniform Fei'nur, technically the ranking officer but not a fit commander for a cruiser, wore when standing next to her. Two full companies of Marines had been brought aboard, the Zeon crew having been spoken to _at length_ by Char beforehand. He had left behind an officer as a symbol of his authority and to interpret the orders, and Elia swallowed at the gesture of confidence that placed her in from the Red Comet:

Lalah Sune.

Once again in Zeon uniform, but now breveted to Lieutenant, Lalah stood on the bridge in her own pair of loaned _Huáscar_ gravity boots, as crisp as Elia, with her hair pulled back into a smart bun. _I wasn't exactly expecting to be stuck on bridge officer duty._

 _That's right, it's a lot lower prestige than being a 'Mech pilot here, isn't it?_

 _Yes. Char taught me to have some pride even though that wasn't really me._ She reached into her breast-pocket and pulled out a picture.

Elia smiled at it. It showed Lalah and Char together, Char as serious and sunglassed as Imra, Lalah blushing a little, somewhere on Earth, gazing recursively at another picture. _At this point, you're fighting to have that again._

 _Yes. I don't understand the point of war, except when you're stuck in it, to fight for your loves and comrades. Char's both._

 _Sometimes people love ideals and nations as much, or more, than friends and lovers._ Elia projected an image of Anna's passionate story of the uprising in Warsaw.

 _...How strange,_ Lalah replied. _You can't feel them like a person. Well, Captain, we are here. It's time for the brief._

 _So it is._ Elia's spine stiffened. An Independent Command, the first.

The _Zanzibar_ had been accelerated to considerable velocity by the _Huáscar_ 's tractor-beam assist and the orbits were similar enough that a light burn was now underway, separating their trajectories and lining her up to bring what would be a long deacceleration burn to bring them into the neutral zone of Side Six. Sitting on the hull via magnetic clamp were ten science shuttles.

Elia began her summary brief. "Our destination is the Baldur's Bay Bunch, two linked colonies in Side Six which have been used for covert research by Zeon. Despite the situation at A Bao a Qu, we know that a Zeonic force was in the area, but they have not executed any recent mission and, quite frankly, Major Aznable didn't know what their orders were," Elia explained, briefing both Dilgar and Zeon officers.

"Our objective is to evacuate the test subjects from this research institute at all costs and prevent the Federation from gaining control of them. Major Aznable has already directed you obey me, the mission is straightforward and we have the appropriate codes. Any questions?" She'd already been over the real secret orders with Fei'nur, in private, before coming aboard: _Make sure that the scientists do not escape-to the Federation OR to Zeon. If they are detained, bring them directly to the shuttles to avoid the crew turning on us. And maintain a contingency to seize the ship if they disobey orders._

The veteran colonel had given _her_ orders, taking the one company transferred aboard from back home in the Union as well as one of veterans she had led herself in Drachenfeldt. Her orders called to mind the old Imperium, which Fei'nur minded not at all.

"This mission will materially aid in Char's plan for the future of Zeon," Elia added to the Zeonic officers of the _Zanzibar._ "And is therefore critical for our shared success. I must have obedience in ignorance, are we clear?"

" _Sieg Zeon_!"

 _Oh, what the hell. They expect it, they want it._ She raised her fist. " _Sieg Zeon_! To your stations. We will commence our de-acceleration burn in twenty minutes."

She clanked across the deck with Fei'nur and Lalah following behind, to the private Captain's suite that had once been Char's. The _Huáscar_ 's Mental Hygienist, Va'tor, was inside. She'd already swept the room for bugs. "Battlemaster, Battle Expert. The room's clear"

"Thank you, Hygienist-Commander," Elia addressed her formally. "All right. I want to make it clear, Fei'nur, that I need your best company commander to stay on board, because _I_ need to be going to the Institute-Lalah and Va'tor will go first, but ultimately this is a big enough job to need my personal help. We need to make sure the Newtypes there will actually trust and follow our instructions. And resistance has to end in minutes, if not seconds. We have the advantage of transporters and we'll need to use it aggressively. Leftenant Sune and Hygienist-Commander Va'tor will need to accompany the first wave to make sure the Newtypes in the facility respond positively."

"Combat Master Kei'dar will serve well for that. You intend my fire-teams to seize the local areas immediately, then. We can do that, if we can get a layout to match to our insertion plan. Otherwise, Battle Expert, it will be minutes, not seconds. You have my apologies."

"I understand, Battlemaster. I trust you with the rest of the details-they are your right to decide on and execute, and mine to follow. My own mission, then, is to make sure you are supplied with the best possible layout charts from the sensors of the shuttles, correct, ma'am?"

"Correct. That will allow me to give you the best chance to gain the support of the Newtypes while I am neutralizing the guards and scientists. Leftenant Sune has already provided the overview and a writeup of her recollections. They will be adequate if the scans don't come through."

Lalah smiled in thanks at the praise.

"Understood. Now, we just need to avoid Federation attacks, other Zeon forces, and the Riah Republic deciding that now is the time to start violently enforcing their neutrality" Elia smiled mirthlessly. "Feels a little bit like Lord Gei'lar must have, going out to declare the Woman-Emperor to the people of Ogkharin?" There was no greater example of a situation from the Dilgar historiography describing a moment in which one expected a blade from literally every quarter.

"It will… yes." Fei'nur's face broke into a smile. "I will ensure it is dealt with, even so. I have a charge from the Captain to ensure you are successful, Battle Expert. Mha'dorn business, I am told."

Elia winked to the Hygienist. "That's one way to put it," she laughed, "And a good enough one, too. Thank you, Battlemaster. I will return to the bridge now. You will get a two minute warning for the deacceleration burn."

"Oh, it's like basic training. How _fun_ …" She still seemed in good spirits, as she turned to depart herself.

* * *

Traveling in company with the _White Base,_ the _Huáscar_ approached openly while the _Heermann_ stood off her starboard quarter under cloak. The threat that the Alliance cruiser posed to the enemy would have been incalculable if it hadn't been for the risk of coming under fire from Minovsky beam weapons. That made the fight considerably more ominous.

Down in the main science labs, Anna Poniatowska and Fera'xero were still working together when Zhen'var arrived, at consoles with a team of both scientists and engineers around them. Anna didn't even look up as Zhen'var entered, instead just guzzling another pull from her mug of (presumably coffee) as she adjusted controls and re-entered new parameters, linked into the interface and ran another sim.

"I apologise for interrupting, but we are going into action. We have received serious new intelligence, the enemy has some type of fusion torch generator designed to wipe out an entire fleet, and I expect it to have been holding a charge to aim at _us_." Zhen'var explained without preamble, her features taut.

"The rumours said we were trying to hit it before that happened, Captain," Anna grimaced. "Fera'xero and I are almost on the verge of developing a shield auto-skipping implementation across frequencies which will prevent the instantaneous degradation that is the hallmark of Polaron/Minovsky fire. I'm going to guess we don't actually have a chance to wait? I mean, we can implement it now, but…"

"We haven't tested it, Captain," Fera'xero added a bit glumly.

"Deploy it, we do not have a choice. Commander Saumarez is already detached on independent command. Long-range sensors indicate that _something_ is happening in the area of the two fleets squaring off."

"We might all die," Anna muttered. "Of course, Captain." She cleared her throat and started to sing, and not in Polish either, but an old Lithuanian song of the Commonwealth. The auto-translator did the job admirably: "Oh, dear rowan tree, where have you been growing in the middle of the swamps…? _Ei, ei, ajajaj,_ in the middle of the swamps.." The rest of the lyrics continued in particularly bloody fashion: _Oh, dear mother, what have you raised me up for? What have you raised me up for and conscripted me to a war? Conscripted me to a war and have forged me three trumpets?_

She slapped a final command into the computer and grinned. "It'll hold, of course, Captain. You have my word. All right. I can report to engineering and make preparations to go to quarters."

"Thank you, Commander. We will be in very heavy action, even if the shields hold. I will be addressing the crew very soon. You both have done well, and I wish I could give you the rest you both deserve."

Anna tossed a chipper salute over the shoulder. "I'll just drink a little bit more coffee, Captain!"

"I'd rather make myself useful, if that's quite all right, Captain," Fera'xero answered as well. "The ship needs it. Let me get to the bridge and start some Minovsky detection algorithms for the enemy weapon, I might at least figure out whether or not we risk our shields against it, or find where it is relative to the enemy forces before it's in position to fire."

"It improves our odds of survival, so I shall not question that, Commander. I am unsure whether or not we will receive support from the Federation in our efforts, we are somewhat supporting a coup against the Duchy's government."

"I am familiarizing myself with the briefs now, Captain," Fera'xero answered as they walked together for the turbolift. "What I knew was already horrifying enough, to be quite honest. Sometimes humanity is amazingly obstinate."

"That I cannot deny, Commander Fera'xero, that I cannot deny…"

Settling in the turbolift for the ride up to the bridge, Fera'xero continued, thoughtfully. "It would be wild to imagine Quarians collectively generating a war from rapacious oppression of others, an ideology of total abandonment of planets, and a bloody-minded quest for revenge in leadership disputed between three families-which then was resolutely pursued to the bitter end. We are rather more Gersallians. But you Dilgar are, in your own way, very human. No offense intended."

"A great woman once said Dilgar and humans were similar reflections, that we could have swapped development paths with a few changes. I have found little to indicate she was not correct as yet."

"I do not think the end of that story has been reached yet, Captain." He folded his hands as they arrived on the bridge. "Nor our's. We will find the enemy cannon, though it might be a matter of reacting appropriately, not acting appropriately." That droll joke hanging in the air, he stepped over to the science station, and left Zhen'var with a moment to regard her bridge crew at stations.

Her eyes scanned the bridge, and she gave a single nod of approval before moving to her command chair. "Get me the shipwide address channel, please."

"All hands, this is the Captain. We will soon be going into action against the primary defense line of the Principality of Zeon, and a great weapon, a massive energy cannon fashioned from an entire O'Neil type space colony. The Federation fleet stands no chance against this weapon, but _we_ do, _Huáscareños._ This war ends _today_ , on terms which stand in concord with those the Alliance holds dearest. Harm's Way is the Valiant Way, and we are assuredly standing into harm's way. I have full confidence in you and our ship. Make your final preparations, we shall be going to quarters in a few moments."

As she finished, Zhen'var smiled tightly. "All right. We've got the position of the Solar Ray. Lieutenant Arterria, come about oh-oh-five mark three and bring us to full impulse. Let's give them a targeting problem." They would approach from the opposite direction that they had been certainly sighted in by now… Zeon's tactics were not ready for a fleet which could alter orbit at will, and Zhen'var needed every little bit.

* * *

As Zhen'var's speech finished coming over the intercoms, Anna looked around, now at Central Engineering Control. "This is going to be the first combat action by the _Huáscar_ in space. We are untested, my children," she said to her engineering space, gray eyes measuring each one of them in turn in their assembled ranks. "But _not_ untrained. There is armour between us and the enemy. The ship will demand our utmost, so she maintain her utmost power when the Captain pushes her beyond her design limits. She will go _far_ beyond them! I expect to make one-hundred and forty-five percent of design power in every subsystem before failure! You will know what to do to achieve it, and we will give the Captain what she needs to keep us all alive. And when the void comes calling, you will shore the internal bulkheads and keep her fighting fit. You have your charge. God go with you." She crossed herself. "Stations!"

The alarms had already started to howl. **Condition Red: General Quarters, Set Material Condition ZEBRA throughout the ship.** Bulkhead doors began to close as warning alarms flashed. The ready storage lockers for the solar torpedoes were brought to combat loading and the magazine locker doors swung into the closed, secure position. In the space of a half-second they could open and the mechanisms gently but quickly move reloads across the gap, to automatically close again another second later.

At designated muster points throughout the ship, crew on Damage Control parties assembled, putting on their vacuum-proof suits, reserve air tanks, and radiation reflective anti-flash gear. Holding plasma welders, emergency sealing foam, pipe fittings and spanners as well as point fire-suppressant foam emitters, their job was to make sure that anti-fire systems (vacuum or exclusionary gas) were repaired if deranged, that breaches and atmosphere slow leaks were repaired, power-conduits diagnosed and fixed in real time, and the area around critical engineering subsystems sanitized. Junior engineering officers reinforced each group. The _Huáscar_ had thirty teams of fourteen each, twice as many as in previous classes of her rate and reflecting operational lessons of the Nazi War.

Around them, the bulkheads had finished slamming shut. Each sector of the hull was now its own life support module. Christmas trees in Damage Control central and Bridge operations showed glowing green lights indicating spacetightness across the ship. The inertial damper reinforcement protocols were activated as Anna brought the reactors up to full power. These defence screens improved the resilience of the hull to fire and would be critical if they were brought under sustained attack by weapons which could penetrate their shields.

One entire company of Marines dispersed through the ship in quick reaction squads, guaranteeing that each hull sector had at least one in it. They were in full combat armour, power armour for a fire team in each, and breathing gear and air tanks for fighting in a vacuum to respond to boarders.

As each step in the preparations was complete, Petty Officers and technicians were pointing to the position of the indicator and verbally indicating, per Zhen'var's operational directives, that it was in the correct position. "Radial bulkhead R-12-B, closed!"

"Indicator Torpedo Magazine three flashtightness, green!"

"Reactor N-4, automatic SCRAM controls, green!"

When the Captain called for General quarters, this vast machinery of war was brought into function by the precise activity of two thousand officers, sailors and marines. The time it took to complete readiness was less than three minutes from Condition Yellow to Red and modified ZEBRA to ZEBRA. The shields were energized to full power first in case of surprise attack. On the bridge, there was no indication of any of it except for the changes in indicator lights at some consoles.

The preparations were totally comprehensive. Pointing fingers and shouting voices cut through the air of each little section, each effort the most critical task for those executing it, the sailors and Chiefs who made the ship live. "Emergency evacuation route markings, glowing!"

"Sickbay Generator One, on-line!"

* * *

"Major Lar'shan, get your wing airborne!" Zhen'var's voice echoed in Prifly. Lar'shan confirmed a moment later. "Launching now, Captain! PriFly, commence full deck launch."

" _Full deck launch, confirmed,_ " Stasia said, pulling her headset down and swinging her chair around to the windows overlooking the tube launch points. With three runabouts already combat loaded and in space along with a dozen fighters, the rest came down to launching full deck strength as rapidly as possible. The abbreviation WC for _Wing, Combined (strike)_ had become Wildcat when verbalised. "Wildcat 3 flight, PriFly Actual, you are go for launch."

"Wildcat 3 Lead, PriFly Actual, commencing launch." The pilots gave a thumbs-up signal to the tube operators and tossed a salute. They were flying through the accelerator rails a half-second later. Four out.

"Wildcat 1, 2, PriFly Actual, go for launch from portside tubes." Then she swung over to Rocky 2 and 3 on the starboard side, her eyes glued on the indicator board which showed tube readiness and a bank of holo-projections which allowed her to sweep her eyes across the conditions in every one of the tubes as new fighters and bombers were brought up, spotted, and launched. There was _nothing_ in her entire past life which compared to this experience, the sheer intensity, it was more anxiety than combat, trying to keep track of dozens of crewers moving purposefully across the decks, hands spinning with hand-signals and flashed salutes and thumbs-up as the positioning carts brought the wing into position in a continuous roll of motion.

Ahead and to the sides of the _Huáscar,_ drive-tail after drive-tail blossomed as she quickly surged to having 60 fighters, 36 bombers and 4 combat fitted runabouts assembled as her CAP and main strike package. CAP was pulled back in with the strike package feeding data back, but reinforced to twenty-four from twelve fighters. The rest were going in with the runabouts providing sensor and targeting support.

On their sensors, they were now clearly resolving A Bao a Qu and the former space colony which hung near it ever so suspiciously. "Major, your group is in the air, Sir," Stasia reported with a grin as the last of the flights tore into space. "Good hunting. PriFly Actual, handing over flight control."

"Wildcat-50 Actual, assuming flight control. Good luck, Chief!"

Of course, there was still one combat craft waiting ready aboard the _Huáscar._ Inside of the main hangar, Char Aznable sat near his Gelgoog, holding his helmet. And as Stasia turned her attention to the holo, high above his position and invisible in PriFly, he turned to the camera and winked. She couldn't help but grin. Around him the operations crews were still working to turn the last recovered squadron of CAP, which formed their combat reserve. The grin still on her face, Stasia reached for her coffee.

* * *

As a telepath, one of Elia's most prized possessions was her watch. Other than a standard set of simple jewelry and piercings, telepath women in general were forbidden from showing the slightest deviation from being objectified, socially normal, prettied up dolls. But watches had still been in common fashion when the rules were drawn up, and so she had one, a very nice sealed chrono which was marking ship time back on the _Huáscar_ as well as the objective times for the start of the operation. Now it seemed a silly affectation when compared to the Omnitool, but with the complicated de-acceleration burn calculations being double-checked on the later, she had her chrono to keep the time, and she rather liked it.

Ahead of them spread one of the most beautiful sights that anyone could ask for, at least if they preferred the wonders of manmade objects to those of nature. The forty Bunches of Side Six, eighty Colonies, blossomed like solar flowers, their spreading mirrors concentrating light and shining like a grove in space. This place had a population of 800 million and it was almost untouched by the War, but its neutrality _had_ been repeatedly violated and millions had died-just those deaths were, as a portion of the population, much less than anywhere else in this universe's humanity.

That made the flowers so much more bittersweet. Elia looked back at her watch intently, straining into her straps as the deacceleration burn continued.

"Do we have scans of the Flanagan Institute yet?"

"Yes, we're resolving an installation at the position indicated by Lieutenant Sune."

"Then dump them into the data-link for Battlemaster Fei'nur immediately," Elia ordered.

"Zero-zero!" The helmswoman, Lieutenant Keitun, called out.

"All stop!" The engineers could barely dial down the reactors before the next order. "Execute closure manoeuvre!" Then she tapped her Omnitool. "Battlemaster, we are in position and you should have just received the precision scans."

"Commence beam-ins," Fei'nur ordered on the open line the shuttle pilots were listening for.

Elia whistled a chord of a song and flashed a thumb's up to Lalah and Va'tor a moment before they disappeared.

"The authorities of the Riah Republic are contacting us, Commander, demanding to know our purpose in violating the neutral sphere of Side Six," her comms Petty Officer reported.

"Tell them we are evacuating the Flanagan Institute and do not mean hostilities," she answered, looking out at the vast exchange of Baldur's Bay before her, the nearer and further colonies of the Bunch now dominating the view from the _Zanzibar._

"Beam-down status?" Elia asked into her omnitool.

"Third commencing now, Commander."

And then one of the Zeon crew looked up. "Commander, nine Drakens coming in."

"They're just looking to enforce their neutrality. They won't be foolish enough to attack," Elia answered. "Nonetheless, start passive optical targeting." She tapped the omnitool. "As soon as transports are complete, detach the shuttles, raise shields and arm phasers."

Then came a report of something altogether more ominous. "Commander, we're being hailed by the 116th Assault Fleet, General Rimini commanding."

"The 116th Assault Fleet? What are they doing here?" The grimace was locked on Elia's face.

"Ma'am, may I remind you that they can countermand Major Aznable's orders?" Keitun looked at her … Sharply.

"Very much so, Leftenant. Well, I'm going to sort it out with the General, personally. You have the bridge." In her omnitool she tapped a command directing Captain Hei'gur to prepare to disable the crew as she calmly walked over to the private cabin. She really had one chance to keep this from blowing up and it was best to keep the questions to a minimum, so without further ado, she opened the closet and started trying to stuff herself into one of Char Aznable's spare uniforms.

* * *

Within the Flanagan Institute, nobody was ready for what happened. They had Lalah's recollections, they had the scans from the sensors, and for what really mattered, they had overwhelming firepower and total tactical surprise. It might be said that it was a massacre, except that enemy casualties were low because there were few targets.

The first Platoon sealed the exits, silently and without warning by opening fire, taking overwatch and covering the approaches. The second Platoon hit the researcher quarters. It was _there_ that Lalah and Va'tor arrived, swiftly marking positions of the Newtype subjects in the institute. The _third_ Platoon hit the quarters for the subjects. Finally the weapons and support group arrived outside to reinforce the first platoon. Even using the shuttle transporters, it took only four minutes.

Fei'nur activated her cloak and personally led the sweep through the quarters of the scientists. As her squad covered her, she went ahead of them, out of sight. A rippling series of explosions followed, neatly covering the fact that she was slashing the researchers to death and then planting the charges behind her to cover it up. Flames soon spread through the luxurious (by spacenoid standard) accommodations. She faced utterly no resistance. As far as Fei'nur was concerned, the best way to see it done was to make it done and done, eliminate the researchers who had _used_ telepaths, eliminate the threat to Multiversal peace with simple, practical acts. And it was what her Warmaster would have wanted, anyway.

The attackers soon realised that there was no significant resistance. "Battlemaster, there were just two squads of security guards and they've been dealt with," her radio squawked as she calmly decloaked, having passed through the residential areas. "Secure the technology examples and data from the research labs and stand by to clear out." A pause as she switched channels. "Hygienist-Commander, has Battle Expert El'sau arrived?"

"She wasn't able to join us, so I'm working with Lalah'Sune directly," the harried woman answered. "They have an issue in space."

"An issue. Thank you." She activated the long-range comm. "Battle Expert? Is there a problem?"

"Yes, Ma'am, and I'm busy!" The channel cut at the same time.

Fei'nur's eyes flicked up and her teeth gritted. "Well, we may be on this space colony for a while. At least it seems more pleasant than Balos. There are no Balosians, to start with."

The Dilgar Marines around her stiffened.

"Secure the perimeter. I am certain Battle Expert El'sau will deal with the situation." _She had best. The Captain is surely busy right now._

* * *

As the _Huáscar_ and her attack group closed with the converted colony from behind, every system was at the ready for action. The last squadron of fighters was being regenerated from their CAP patrols and prepared for launch. Torpedo tubes were loaded and held at the ready. The crew stood at quarters, waiting their first experience with space to space action aboard the _Huáscar._

The fusion block engine that had been added to the converted space colony began to loom on the screen. "Stand by to fire," Zhen'var directed, wondering if Zeon had butchered their own people to create the Colony Laser.

"...Captain!" Lieutenant Tor'jar at comms looked up. "We're being hailed by the _Great Degwin._ Prince Degwin is contacting us directly and wishes to inform us that he has a truce with the Earth Federation."

"... _What!?_ " Zhen'var looked at the tactical display. The massive Earth Federation fleet… Was being led by one Earth ship.. And one Zeon battleship.

"Hold fire. Put the _Prince_ on-screen."

"Yes, Battle-" a pause "Captain."

The screen flashed over from the external display to the visage of the short, gnarled old man who had spent a life in zero-gravity. In a gaudy royal uniform of Zeon he looked as comic opera as an Italian fascist.

"Prince Degwin. Understand that I cannot accept the legitimacy of your government," Zhen'var said peremptorily. "I believe you unlawfully usurped power over the Autonomous Republic of Munzo from Zeon Zum Deikun and arranged his murder, and I have come to an agreement with his son and political heir, Casval Rem Deikun, and daughter Artesia Som Deikun, to arrange your replacement and bring an end to this war. You and your family have much to answer for, Prince Degwin, but I can at least arrange for your personal safety, fair trial, and a guarantee of the safety and independence of the people of Zeon under the terms of the original and accepted declaration of independence from the Earth Federation of ten years before."

"Casval and Artesia…" He sank into his command chair. "I abused them so cruelly. I have been responsible for all of their misfortunes in this war. How did they escape? How did you, of all people, interuniversal alien, find them?"

"Casval is nobody else but the Red Comet, Prince Degwin," Zhen'var replied. "Char Aznable will lead the negotiations with the Earth Federation."

"Second communication coming in… It's identified as coming from General Revil, the Earth Federation Commander."

"Split-screen," Zhen'var ordered. The bearded officer's image resolved itself. "General. I am Captain Zhen'var of the Allied Systems Vessel _Huáscar._ This was an open channel, so I assume that you heard. We can end this war and end it now. You have already done good work toward that end. But you will now know that certainly, there will be no more fighting."

"This is an internal Earth Federation matter," General Revil replied. "Captain Zhen'var, you and your Alliance do not need to intervene. A cease-fire has been arranged."

"That cease-fire may have been arranged, but the real concerns of Zeon must also be addressed or else wars will merely continue indefinitely in this system. General, we are prepared to be reasonable and provide support to comprehensive disarmament enforcement for Zeon, and the prosecution of war criminals. However, I must insist the Earth Federation Government…"

Degwin's channel suddenly vanished, the image of the broken old man flashing away in a heartbeat.

"Science, what just happened?"

"Captain," Fera'xero answered, his voice both puzzled and horrified, "there's been an explosion on the _Great Degwin._ "

Zhen'var looked back up to the screen and General Revil, but his image had vanished, too.


	16. Episode 3 Act 5

**Act Five**

Elia finished adjusting the Zeon dress uniform, sat at her desk, tightening her gloves, and activated the comm channel. "General Rimini, this is Major Saumarez reporting."

"Major Saumarez. I'm not familiar with you." The stiff-necked Zeon officer stared sharply for a moment, and then shrugged. "Why did _you_ violate the territorial zone of the Riah Republic?"

"I was directed by Major Aznable to evacuate the Flanagan Institute," Elia said in measured tones. "Newtypes are Zeon's future and we had to secure them."

"I was given the same orders by Lady Kycilia Zabi," General Rimini responded, frowning. "Major, have you already taken measures to secure the equipment and data in the facility as well?"

"Yes, certainly. We've almost finished loading aboard the _Zanzibar._ Sir, if you enter the space of the Riah Republic, we risk a battle. They are already sending Mobile Suits this way and a Federation Task Force is in the area. Sir, I can complete the evacuation on my own if you provide distant cover."

"Then we will not have enough _time_ to transfer the subjects and equipment to my squadron to execute our orders." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Major, if you are under Char Aznable's command, I trust you completely. You will link your cruiser to our data-links and follow us when we withdraw to our rally point. The _Zanzibar_ will be the treasure ship, we will be the escort. Is that understood?"

"Yes, General." Inside, her thoughts had hit a brick wall. _Where are we going, then? I have been hijacked, and I'm also the hijacker…_ "Sir…"

"Not a word. You'll follow us. You'll see when you get to the rally point," General Rimini answered. " _Is that understood?_ "

"Yes, sir." She drew herself up. " _Sieg Zeon_!"

" _Sieg Zeon!"_

The image blinked out, and Elia sank back down for a moment before she forced herself up to go out on the bridge. _What the hell have I gotten myself into? But I have no choice; until Zhen'var is done with her own operation, I'm going to have to play this straight._

She stepped out onto the bridge after hastily changing back to her Dilgar uniform. "Crew, excellent news! General Rimini has confirmed our orders, as expected. The Alliance between the Alliance of Systems and Zeon continues as Major Aznable foresaw. Once we have completed our recovery of personnel we will be withdrawing in company with General Rimini's fleet. The welcome and regular order you will find should leave you absolutely convinced that this mission was planned and approved as a collaboration between our peoples at the highest leadership by the lawful government of Zeon."

From a certain point of view, it was even true. Considering these crewers were all loyalists to Char… They might just keep believing what they wanted to hear for long enough to make it work. As long as they had faith that they were following Char, she was certain that they wouldn't turn against her and her Marines. _Now, if only I knew what was happening with the Huáscar…_

* * *

Gihren had been preparing for this for a while. His father was a liability, and he was no worse of a liability than when he was considering a cease-fire with the Earth Federation. Gihren had made absolutely sure that he was going to be removed as a problem, eliminated as an obstacle to the ultimate triumph of Zeon.

Now with the fleets in position and his father declaring on an open channel that he had a cease-fire, Gihren had no choice but to act immediately. He personally brought up the access codes, and sent the detonation command, to a bomb smuggled aboard the _Great Degwin_ as a contingency operation.

There was absolutely no expression on his face when he did. He remained perfectly calm as the eruption of nuclear fire was tracked by the sensors on A Bao a Qu.

"Sir! Prince Degwin's flagship…!"

"My father?" Gihren said, his voice as falsely sauve as ever when he wasn't giving a speech. "What has happened?"

"It has been destroyed in a nuclear attack, Sir!"

He _could_ spend time justifying the situation to his people, but he did not expect that the alien vessel would _give_ him the time. He would instead let the timeline of events be absolutely clear-cut, and use that to allow the necessary conclusions to be drawn.

"Treason! The Earth Federation attacked my father to destroy our power and disrupt his agreement! The Solar Ray is to open fire on the Federation fleet."

"Captain, power surge from the Solar Ray cannon!" Fera'xero leaned forward. "It's dreadnought-scale power, Captain!"

"Target?!" Zhen'var watched the nuclear flames flick across the remains of the _Great Degwin._

"The …"

Arterus brought up the parabolic on a split screen. "The Federation fleet." Suddenly the image of General Revil's flagship vanished as well, and with it, more than a third of the concentrated Federation fleet, wiped out in the space of seconds.

"The _White Base?_ " Zhen'var thought of Artesia, Bright Noa, Amuro, the ship which contained their hope for a negotiated settlement with the Federation.

"Outside of the attack arc," Arterus confirmed a moment later.

"Captain, the weapon is charging again," Fera'xero reported, "and this time it's on a target vector which will destroy the _White Base_ and another third of the Federation Fleet."

The open channel echoed with a voice, brought on-line by Tor'jar.

" _Soldiers of Zeon! My father, Degwin Zabi, has been traitorously killed by the Earth Federation after attempting to negotiate an honourable peace for Zeon with them. Our only choice is to use the newly unleashed power of the Solar Ray laser to destroy the Federation utterly and punish them for this outrageous attack. We will have our total vindication in the triumph of Zeon at A Bao a Qu…"_

Zhen'var made a chopping motion across her neck. "I've heard enough of that petty little Hitler. Daria, target the Solar Ray and commence fire!"

Daria brought up the full forward Solar Torpedo banks and fired automatic 10-round bursts from each of the four main launchers. Forty torpedoes tumbled across space, accelerating down their final tracks toward the converted Colony.

"Not soon enough, Captain! They're firing!" Arterus looked at Zhen'var urgently.

Daria glanced back, a sudden inspiration leaping into her head even though it might get her and her entire ship killed. "Captain! Warp drive! Interpose our shields between the _White Base_ and the Laser, create a shadow with our shields!"

"Science, could we survive?"

"Yes, it's diffuse effect, Captain," Fera'xero answered. "It's fatal to those ships because of nonexistent armour and no shields."

"Arterus, course laid in?" Violeta said, her eyes freezing forward in fear but her hands moving quickly.

"You have it, helm!"

"Engage," Zhen'var ordered, for in this she felt like a weapons release; it was a direct command to risk the ship. Then, grimly, she tapped the ship to ship. "If you don't hear from me again Commander Imra, _win this battle._ "

The _Huáscar_ elongated and flung herself into warp for a fraction of a second, reappearing with her shields extended and cast as a wide net to starboard against the oncoming flaring, flashing beam of the Solar Ray.

* * *

"You heard the Captain," Commander Imra said quietly on her bridge, the _Heermann_ having settled into a nervous, tense silence. "Ca'elia, get us _in close_ with the Solar Ray. Let's finish the job! Commander Goodenough, stand by to de-cloak…"

Ahead of them, Daria's torpedoes ripped along the length of the Solar Ray as the second shot finally ceased firing. They punched through the side of the Solar Ray and detonated within. The Solar Ray did not explode; instead, a _beam appeared_ from it, heading toward the _Huáscar_ again. In the intensity of the fire, the crew of the _Heermann_ could not see whether or not their mothership had survived, watching with a numb dread as the weapon seemed to soak up the _Huáscar_ 's fire without a glimmer of damage.

Abebech lurched in her command chair as she understood what had happened. "Of course! The interior is an energy concentrator and the walls are so thin the torpedoes went through before detonating!"

She continued a moment later: "Ca'elia, I need you to get us in against the mirrors before they can finish charging again! If we don't destroy the focusing mirrors we won't be able to knock it out." She hit the channel comm selector in her chair. "WC50 Lead, this is _Heermann_ Actual. Go for the capacitor banks behind that fusion bottle!"

The young Dilgar woman's face shifted to a determined cast, gloved hands shifting on her controls as she spun the _Heermann_ about on her axis, queuing up pre-programmed evasive patterns to throw off the enemy fire that would soon be coming their way.

"WC50 Actual confirms! Going in on the attack." The fighters and bombers of the strike package, with the armed runabouts anchoring behind, dove for the Solar Ray as the _Heermann_ radically manoeuvred under cloak to get into attack position on the focusing mirrors.

Goodenough took over the channel. " _Heermann_ to WC50 Lead, warning, you have nineteen Mobile Suits identity code 'Zaku II' standing off the port quarter of that thrust block where they'll be able to engage when you get in close." Battle was joined.

* * *

For a moment it had seemed like they'd bought the farm. The _Huáscar_ heeled hard on her side, thirty degrees or more, without the straps in the control chairs every crewer on the bridge would have been thrown. Violeta gritted her teeth and kept the thrusters firing, her starboard broadside to the Solar Ray as their shields blocked as much of it as they could.

"Primary shields failed!" Fera'xero reported. "Captain, secondary generators failing too!"

"Reactors three and five SCRAMed automatically from overload!" Anna's voice cut out of the intercom.

Suddenly Lieutenant Orallian's chair at Ops lunged to the side as the adjustor mechanism failed under the pressure of the ship's heel, and the Gersallian ops watchstander was tossed against a console, a groan abruptly cut off. Several of the ship's officers spun toward him, but none could be spared.

" _Steady on!"_ Zhen'var's voice showed stress as she emphatically kept them focused on their duties, but no panic or worry as she was thrown hard into her restraints. "It shall pass!" She activated a commline to the nearest casualty clearing station. "Casualty on the bridge, corpsman!" Nobody could be spared for first aid, their first and only duty was to keep the ship alive and fighting.

"Secondary shield banks have failed," Fera'xero reported, more calmly now, and even as he spoke more calmly, the ship herself seemed to calm. "The beam intensity is fading. Tertiary… Holding." The force which had overcome the inertial dampers as the thrusters fought to compensate now faded and normal gravity restored to the ship.

"Prepare for imminent close-quarters-battle, our shields are degraded and they shall attack us with dispatch! See to your duties and prepare to engage incoming attackers! Status of the Federation forces?"

"We managed to put about half of the targeted fleet in our shield shadow, Captain, at least half their fleet and the _White Base_ are still intact," Arterus reported.

"Captain," Fera'xero interrupted calmly, but urgently, "the torpedoes-the Solar Ray-it's firing again."

Daria closed her eyes. Though it had been impossible to realise at the time she had fired, she now felt tremendously guilty. She might have gotten them all killed with those torpedoes, their own fire coming back on them. Then they snapped open, and picking the target of the Ray's thrust block, she fired again. She could at least stop the weapon _now,_ perhaps, just perhaps…

"Sound collision and brace for impact." Zhen'var's voice still refused to show the panic or fear that even now battered frantically at her conscious mind - another blast like _that_ , when they had already lost so much of their shielding? They would be crippled in the best case.

The shot slammed into the _Huáscar_ and tore her to the side again. Violeta again compensated and held them in position, the ship heeling less severely than under the first attack. It seemed less powerful than before.

"Captain, it's the energy from our own torpedoes detonating inside the plenum chamber! Because the mirrors are intact it was focused back at us," Fera'xero explained even as the ship shuddered under the impacts.

"I've re-targeted against the engine so they at least can't shift the aim-point," Daria added. "But the chamber is so thin the torpedoes go through the walls and detonate inside."

"We've lost shields, Captain," Anna reported, a disembodied voice from Engineering, staying calm. "Minor hull breaches across decks three through fourteen. We've lost sensor input from PriFly."

"Damage Control Central can deal with the matter. Alert the Marine and Security detachments to _stand-to_ to repel boarders _._ " There was no need for the _bridge_ to be overwhelmed by the caphacony of alarms that the damage control teams were having to deal with. "Keep firing as long as you are capable, Tactical. Helm, with our shields down, manoeuvre to protect the ship as able."

"Bringing us hard to starboard to present our portside armour. Guns," Violeta addressed Daria, "I'll keep the port arcs to the enemy."

"Confirmed," Daria repeated.

Arterus brought up the tactical plot. "Twenty-two mobile suits type "Rick Dom" coming in."

"I expect they intend to disable then take the ship. It is our responsibility to prevent this at any hazard. Tactical, the mobile suits and the boarding teams following them should be the full effort of your weapons. We must trust our support ships to take the Solar Ray. Divine guide their efforts, for we must look to ourselves now." Zhen'var spared only a fraction of a second for a glance to confirm that a Corpsman had arrived to treat Lieutenant Orallian. Satisfied she turned back to the tactical display.

"Targeting Rick Doms with Model 2 PBEs," Daria confirmed.

"Bridge, this is PriFly Actual," Stasia's familiar voice cut over the intercom. "Our backup shield generator is re-activated and we are operational but depressurized. I am preparing to launch SP-5 and Major Aznable." Not about to trust vacuum more than she did the waters of the Bering Sea, she had gotten her people into full suits regardless of Alliance standard practice several minutes after the main strike launch had been completed. It had saved their lives.

"Understood, PriFly. Deflector shields are down, we have Rick Doms, two squadrons, inbound. I am expecting boarding teams to be following. All you have, _Huáscar_ needs." Her ship was badly hurt, hurt enough to make this a fight that had an outcome _deeply_ in doubt.

"Launching now, Captain," her ready American accent answered, and the channel went silent.

Daria selected her targets, using a visualisation scope, and began to fire. Suddenly, the situation looked a little brighter. The Rick Doms tried to aggressively evade, but the _Huáscar'_ s port quarter erupted in flame and fire from the sweeping arcs of eight plasma beams stuttering toward their targets.

In the silence of space, the Rick Doms violently skewed and swerved to evade with the full potential of their Minovsky field generators, but limited to low-G accelerations, all the manoeuvrability in the world wasn't _fast_ enough for Daria's firing. The aggrieved Dorei woman had her moment of vindication as the beams stayed with their targets, and eight Rick Doms were instantly speared through, cut open, and left to explode.

Almost as soon as the first group had died, she brought the beams onto the next group. The Mk. 2 PBEs were more than powerful enough for the job. The attack was being ripped apart.

"There are fifty capital ships moving up behind them, Captain," Arterus reported. "And I think.. Science, confirm it but in Sector 11-09X I think there's another group of Mobile Suits, possibly covering boarding pods."

"For what we are about to receive, let us be thankful. Helm, work with Tactical to keep us covered as best as possible while keeping her arcs, Tactical, you know your priorities, use everything Engineering can give you." She was watching the displays as the repeaters showed her ship's situation and made a quick estimate. "... We are going to run out of range between ourselves before they run out of ships."

* * *

Lieutenant Ca'elia was deep in concentration, a three-dimensional globe display projected before her, ships indicated by lines coming from it, length indicating distance from the _Heerman._ It was not the normal display a helmswoman would use, being more intended for a tactical officer trying to keep track of a swirling series of contacts around, but she found it useful for keeping situational awareness - something she very much needed as she moved to thread the needle of the Zeon defensive belt around the converted colony cylinder.

"Stand by to transfer power to weapons," Abebech directed behind her to Abdul.

Her expression did not shift, utter concentration written across her face as emerald eyes watched her display with total attention, fingers shifting deftly across her controls as she 'slid' them through the gaps, carefully conserving and bleeding velocity as she had to, bringing them 'inside' the arc of the three great mirror arrays, between two and with line of fire to the central glass cylinder, rigid with tension.

"Stand by…" Abebech raised her gloved right hand. "Range?"

Abdulmajid was staring into his targeting scope. "...Five kilometres, Captain."

"Cannon-shot," Goodenough muttered.

" _Transfer power to weapons_!"

Ca'elia's hands slowed their movement, drawing less power from the engines, knowing they would soon reduce in maximum thrust as the weapons arrays drew power from the ship's pools. _May your God guide your shots, Abdulmajid._

"Allahueckbar," he muttered under his breath as the cloaking device deactivated and he brought all the forward weapons into action simultaneously. A devastating wave of plasma cannon and phaser fire swept over the enemy while solar torpedoes swept from the launchers across the mirrors.

Behind the Solar Ray, Lar'shan's fighters and bombers tore into the defending Zakus and the bombers swept over the fusion bottle, launching torpedoes at close range into the Minovsky charge capacitors located just inside the old colony atmospheric casing.

From two directions the fire converged on the guts of the Solar Ray. Covering his bombers, Lar'shan started to lure the Zakus away from the Colony, killing three in the process. It also kept him safe as the structure finally began to collapse.

A series of bright white-blue flashes erupted as the capacitors detonated, and rippling in a circle around the aft portion of the Solar Ray, Ca'elia was suddenly faced with a massive, detached, multi-kilometre long mirror fragment tumbling toward her ship in space.

Her eyes widened for a moment, but her hands were moving before her brain had even finished processing the situation, firing their side thrusters to start generating velocity… _yes_ , she had gauged the vector correctly, as the helmswoman spun her ship about and fired the engines as she did, demanding all the power the current power distribution would allow… it would be _tight_ , even so, and she called out; "Request tractors to repulsion, port quarter!"

"Do it," she directed to tactical without missing a beat.

Mehmet needed nothing else from Abebech, his hands whipping over the board, setting the tractors, and kicking them on with almost exactly the effect and strength which Ca'elia had requested. The impact of the tractor beams with the object skewed them around sharply.

She had expected it, and used it along with their sublight engines to kick them the final distance clear, managing it by only a ship's length from a protruding girder, swinging the bow back around with their main weapons facing the first waves of incoming Zeon craft.

"Leftenant, fire free," Abebech ordered to Abdulmajid. "Major Lar'shan," she next directed on the comms, "Form your wing on me." Glancing to her right: "Goodenough, find us a way inside of A Bao A Qu. The Monster that guards the Tower is going down."

She folded her hands for a moment. Stretched them, like a woman getting down to business. "Leftenant Ca'elia, full thrust! Close us to point-blank range with A Bao A Qu!"

"Aye, closing to point-blank, Captain." The throttles went to the stops as her existence became the _ship_ , it becoming an extension of herself.

Abebech finally activated the comms on the Federation tactical frequencies as they roared ahead. Still not able through the intense jamming and energy surge of the heavy fire on the battlefield to be sure if the _Huáscar_ had survived, she resorted to making absolutely sure that she was going to obey Zhen'var's final order. "All units of the Federal Navy! The Solar Ray has been destroyed! Close to point-blank range and commence the attack on A Bao a Qu! Gihren falls today!"

* * *

As Daria finished off the first wave of Rick Doms with the Mk.2 PBEs, Stasia completed the launch of the remaining squadron of fighters on the _Huáscar_ and Char Aznable's Gelgoog.

Hearing the strain under the deckplates, Zhen'var grimaced internally. Her ship was being sluggish to answer the helm, some of the titanic energies aimed at the huge vessel had degraded her engines, and the situation was steadily looking worse. Even the Red Comet could not stand off a force _that_ large - he would run out of ammunition, if nothing else.

Not with weapons alone, though he might have given it a good effort. But he had another weapon. His voice.

"Comrades of Zeon! This is Char Aznable, who you chose to name the Red Comet! Today I come before you with my friends and allies in the Allied Systems, the spacefarers of a dozen galaxies, the realisation of my father's dream! Yes, my father! I am Casval Rem Deikun, son of Zeon Zum Deikun, the founder of our nation! The murderous House of Zabi destroyed my father, murdered him, we have Degwin's confession to his crimes. It was that confession, it was Degwin's effort to surrender which caused Gihren to _murder_ him, and we have proof of that too! You are fighting for kinslayers, usurpers and genocidal tyrants!"

"The true vision of Zeon Zum Deikun is to be found when we go to the stars! Gihren promises you an endless cycle of murder and death over Earth. Stand against him, and travel with a comrade to the stars. The door is open, the void awaits. _Sieg Zeon!_ "

As the declaration faded from the comm channels, Fera'xero spoke with swelling happiness in his voice. "Captain, I can confirm major structural damage to the Solar Ray. It appears to be breaking up. Commander Imra and Major Lar'shan got it, Ma'am."

"It remains only to be seen how Major Deikun's appeal is received, then." She warily watched her tactical displays, as her ship stood to readiness once more, gathering her strength for the last desperate effort that would _hopefully_ never come.

"Captain, Engineering," Anna's voice came up. "I've got overrides for the baffles on impulse banks three, four, and six coming up. When they're done in another three minutes, it'll restore partial ability to manoeuvre. I'll also regenerate Reactor No.3 in four minutes. Five longer. Nothing else to report." There were hull breaches, casualties, probably fatalities, but the Captain only needed to know about what would impact the fighting of the ship, and so all of that fell by the wayside.

"Understood, thank you." She _was_ grateful as she factored it in, checked the timing on the approaching craft. The Zabi loyalists _would_ be a problem, what of them there were. She could _not_ gauge the situation without seeing how the Zeon forces would split.

Lieutenant Tor'jar, trying to maintain the comms functionality throughout the ship, was diverted on his board to where an insistent sublight comm message was flashing, and took it. "Captain! The _White Base_ is hailing us."

"On my panel." She would not occupy the main screen while they were in combat, swinging her personal display into position from the arm attached to the side of her command chair. The rest of the bridge could hear the speaker, it would do.

"Captain Zhen'var, Captain Noa. I appear to be in command of the surviving Federal Navy forces and I'm acting accordingly. We received a directive to press the attack on A Bao a Qu. In light of Casval Deikun's declaration I believe this is the right thing to do. He's upheld his end of the bargain, we'll push the attack home on Gihren and count on surrenders and defections. But we've detected one hundred and fifty-one mobile suits converging on your position from behind those advancing capital ships. They're taking advantage of the position of our own fleet and the battle around us to sneak in toward you, Captain. If you can start advancing directly on A Bao A Qu, then our own advance will put us in a position where I can have the Gundam hit them on the flank when they reach point-blank range with you. Is that an acceptable battle-strategy?"

"It shall have to do, Captain Noa. Helm, you heard the plan. Shape our vector towards A Bao A Qu. Tactical, ensure our timing is correct."

Ahead of them loomed the great base, made of two asteroids fused together around a heavily armoured fabricated steel strength girder. Defended by 20 defence battalions of mobile suits and ground-positioned troops and heavy weapons batteries, it was equipped with beam shields, but they were scarcely the panacea that a properly functioning Darglan shield was.

"Long range fire-free, Tactical… we may be able to spook their leadership if they think themselves personally in danger."

"Understood, Captain." Daria wasted no time in cueing up a full bore torpedo salvo that would impact with A Bao a Qu at high ballistic velocity even after fuel was exhausted.

"We have another reason, Captain," Arterus reported. "Long range sensors show Naqia emissions near A Bao A Qu. I believe Commander Imra has moved on to a new target."

"She as always, has her eyes on the prize. Restore what we can, and prepare to defend ourselves. In our state, the fight shall be even." The more damage was repaired, the more _Huascar_ regained her ability to fight, to dominate her local battle-space, though the Solar Ray had done enough to require dockyard time, that Zhen'var could _feel_.

And then the open comm channel of the local Federation forces rang out with a panicked and inexperienced voice. "Here come the Zekes! _AAAGH!"_ Moments later, boiling like ants from the sun, they were under attack. Dozens of Balls started to explode as the lead wave ripped through them.

"Tactical, you are fire free!"

* * *

At A Bao A Qu, Abebech Imra had exploited first, by closing the range. Then, with a series of rapid and precise orders, she formulated and implemented her battle-plan, wrangling in the Federation Mobile Suits attacking Sector S. Wedging in between the fleet forces covering Sector E, which seemed to be hesitating after Char's announcement, and those in Sector S, she had worked Lar'shan's fighters into position to attack below the Beam Shields. Now it was up to Ca'elia's work at the helm to keep them alive as their heavy forward batteries stitched up position after position on the surface of A Bao a Qu, and Commander Goodenough tried to localise the beam shield projector to be targeted by the remaining torpedoes on the bombers.

She barely moved, eyes slitted, hackles reflexively raised and demi-claws trying to work through her gloves, explosions of motion as she needed it, whipping their attacker around like a runabout, occasionally slamming people into restraints as she exceeded the inertial dampers ability to keep up to dodge especially vicious torrents of fire.

With the shields properly calibrated, they were effectively holding off the Minovsky beam weapons. It gave Abel Veeringen down in engineering on the _Heermann_ a thrill of pride at a job well done. Anna's mods had worked, the damned Pole was a true engineer and more sympathetic to his views than most. With all systems running nominal and the shields' main threat being the thermonukes Gihren's forces were throwing at them, he had the _Heermann_ operating as a fine-tuned machine for Ca'elia's manoeuvres.

Goodenough, locked into his chair, monitored the processing of the sensor data and ran algorithms, occasionally providing an audio warning to Imra of something he knew his Captain would find important enough to warrant it. They were moving at low speed but high manoeuvrability, operating in closely defined proximity to the immense asteroid base. His education may have been with Darglan Brainwave infusers, but he wasn't a slouch with the sensors and analyzers now, even if he found the role odd for an XO.

Wave-forms and energy had to originate, and be transmitted, from somewhere. They couldn't exist otherwise. They might form a bubble or a wall in space, but at some level there had to be a connection to the original source. As it was, the debris made the situation _easier_ to analyze. Perturbations in them indicated contact with energy fields. The computers pulled back the position of the projector from these data alone. It was going to have to be enough.

"Captain, probable location. Helm, you have it."

Abebech looked at the arm-rest display and nodded once. "Good enough." She cued her comm. "Major Lar'shan, we've got a location and Commander Goodenough is updating your wing now. Give it everything."

Ca'elia was already moving to get _Heerman_ 's weapons on target, slipping through the Zeon forces that continued to swarm all around.

"All right. Get us in, get the job done. We'll open up a gap for the Federals to concentrate fire through as they close to contact. Weapons, full power charge ahead."

* * *

As the _Huáscar_ moved in with the remnants of the Federal Navy, lamed but recovering, the assault force led by Kusko Al closed to contact. With only a small area of shields active on the port-side, she swung in with her massive Zeong to the starboard, coming in from aft. "Target the bay doors on those big hangars, if we can crack them open the assault troops can land directly. I'll suppress the defensive fire."

And what a tremendous quantity of defensive firepower it _was._ The Mk.2 and Mk.1 PBEs and the PIBs opened fire, raking across the incoming mobile suits, now at close range and with full force. Fifteen of them were destroyed within thirty seconds.

Kusko Al and the big Zeong wasn't one of them. She cut across the hull of the _Huáscar,_ deployed her detached weapons and threading them around the fire to deliver pinpoint, precision converging fire directed by her _mind,_ direct interface with the deployed weapons pods. Energy beam after energy beam was sharply delivered, not wasted on the immense armour of the monstrous interstellar ship, but striking home to derange and destroy firing aperture after firing aperture. Behind her, groups of Zaku IIs and Rick Doms raced in to take advantage of the gap and target the bay doors of the ship.

And then a prominently red-coloured Gelgoog swung down in front of her as she looped under one of the _Huáscar_ 's nacelles. "Kusko!" The unmistakable voice echoed sharply in the earbuds of her spacesuit. "This is our chance! A land for Newtypes! Why do you continue to fight for the Zabi?!"

She directed the weapons fire of the Zeong against Char's Gelgoog as rage burned in her, the red suit evading but not firing back. "Char, you understand nothing of what they put us through at the Flanagan Institute! This was our chance to prove ourselves to Zeon, to those like Gihren who dismissed us. You're ruining it by turning on our people! You're fighting with the Federation! The oppressors of all Spacenoids!"

Suddenly a massive white mobile suit, utterly distinctive but still smaller than the Zeong, descended on her, firing its beam. A warning, a sense of the individual's mind, cued her just in time, and she ripped the Zeong away from the fire just in time. Presented with an opportunity by her sudden evasion, she spun around and concentrated against the ramscoop on the lead part of one of the _Huáscar_ 's nacelles before pirouetting the giant mobile suit back around to track on the Gundam.

"Look at you, Char! You're not one of us who went through the institute, we all looked up to you but you never had to deal with our pain once, but here you are playing these games of power and revenge, like an Earthnoid. And now you're fighting alongside the Gundam!" She pulled into another turn just as a burst of fire streaked along the course she would have taken.

* * *

"Captain," Daria was reporting on the bridge of the _Huáscar._ "We've shot down eleven Zaku IIs and eighteen Rick Doms but they're coming in another wave, still targeting the bay doors. We've lost thirty percent of our defensive aft firepower against small craft."

"Both the Gundam and Char's unit are being drawn away by the one big Zeon Mobile Suit," Arterus added. "But the Federal Navy is almost untouched, we're attracting the full forward firepower of the loyalist Zeon forces."

"Thirty-eight Zeon ships have switched IFFs and their commanders are overwhelming us with requests for orders," Leftenant Tor'jar supplied his own summary.

"Redirect requests based on proximity to either _Heermann_ or ourselves, what remains, Leftenant?"

"Could Commander Atreiad take over direction of friendly Zeon forces from secondary command?" Fera'xero asked.

It took Zhen'var only a moment to weigh the options "Agreed. Transfer incoming communications to him at once. Helm, use engine wash to assist in covering the bay doors. Tactical, keep up firing as long as we have emplacements aft, it is quite clear their objective. PriFly, evacuate your deck crews from the threatened area, Marines, if they get through, it shall be up to you."

A chorus of acknowledgments sent the plans into action as the _Huáscar_ pulled ahead and to the starboard, _en echelon_ with the Federal Navy, leading in toward the swarming battle around A Bao a Qu. Around her, three Newtypes were locked in a deadly mobile suit combat that none wished to consummate.

* * *

Major Johnny Ridden drove his Gelgoog forward again and again through the teeth of heavy opposition. The pilot with his unicorn blazon was leading the Chimera Corps of Zeon aces deeper through the lines; the thirty-one pilots had already accounted for one hundred and eighty-five Federation mobile suits.

"Chimera Corps, form on my left wing."

" _Acknowledged,_ " chorused the line. He flipped his Gelgoog casually and tore through a line of Balls with short-range before checking to dress ranks. Ahead of him was something entirely different from a Mobile Suit, and it wouldn't be an easy capship kill, either.

The Newtype woman Kusko Al's voice cut into his comm circuit. "Major Ridden, we're commencing our final attack on the bay doors of the alien cruiser now. Get Chimera Corps in there and wreck it."

"Copy and confirm," Johnny answered. He seethed at taking orders from the much more junior Newtype, but the directive had come straight from Kycilia, and for his beau, the indignity would be tolerated. "Attacking now."

The cluster of mobile suits swung around Federation ships to use them as cover for the final attack. One of the Gelgoogs spun in formation and opened fire, destroying a Federation cruiser.

"Lieutenant Diplom, cut it out! Save your ammo for the alien cruiser!"

"Acknowledged and con-" the channel abruptly cut off.

Ridden spared a look at his side visuals. A line of Gelgoogs in Chimera Corps had ceased to exist, seven elite pilots gone in a heartbeat, as the beams and pulses of the energy weapons on the enemy cruiser had gone through them like a knife through warm butter.

On instinct he kicked his thrusters to full and dropped down. A stuttering beam ripped through the space he had been in. _They're massacring us,_ he thought, his gut clenching as the screams of his pilots echoed through comms. They were veteran killers, and they were used to reaving like Gods of War.

Now they were finally meeting their match. Ridden snapped his Gelgoog through another crisp manoeuvre, working his way closer as the fire of the alien cruiser reduced his corps to a pile of rubble. With each loss, he became more determined to see it through. Revenge was in front of him, and an end to the massacre.

Again and again the beams of the cruiser tried to finish his squadron, and the losses piled up, but Johnny Ridden led his dwindling team closer with each jink and evasive manoeuvre, carefully choosing his course to evade and advance. He was going to _get her,_ to get that damned devil-ship.

The gaping ruins of the hangar bay doors loomed in the aft dorsal surface of the ship. They were almost there. "Chimeras, call out!"

"Chaseman, here!"

"Ingrid, here!"

 _Three of us?_ For a moment shock almost stopped him from making the next evasive manoeuvre. _Have we really taken ninety percent casualties?_ But they had. "Kusko, this is Ridden, we're going in. What's left of us."

He brought his thrusters to full power and aimed for the bay. Now the cruiser's hull was masking her intact guns. Three would have to be enough.

* * *

Lar'shan led his fighters down in close to the surface of A Bao a Qu. Slipping between beam shields, the attrited wing of the _Huáscar_ dodged a line of last-ditch nuclear explosions fired by Zeon artillery pieces emplaced on the surface of the asteroid and followed the _Heermann_ in. Four Rick Doms dove on his squadron from positions higher up the inverted cone of A Bao a Qu as they did.

He peeled off his with his wingman to meet them. "Keep it tight and cover the bombers!" Skewing hard at low thrust so that his manoeuvring thrusters pivoted the Mongoose on the dime, he caught one with a first of forward fire. The others dove back for the surface of A Bao a Qu.

Cancelling his forward velocity, he used thrusters to flip the fighter over and track. It was exceptionally dangerous, the fact that he wasn't a moving target made him immediately subject to a concentration of fire from the surface defensive battalions, but his wingman stitched along them in a short pass with the forward guns.

Lar'shan instead skewed the nose, tracking the surface, and unleashed his last two underwing missiles to track for heat sources along the surface while firing on one of the suits as it reappeared, silhouetted against the distant light of the Earth. It was torn apart instantly, and Lar'shan shoved his throttles to full power and the fighter roared ahead to fall in with the rest of the wing. He had no torpedoes as he evaded the fire from the surface, but he needed to be here anyway, diverting enemy anti-air from the bombers, making a dummy pass.

Suddenly, the assembly of buildings they were targeting loomed up on the surface of the asteroid. The bomber pilots and the _Heermann_ needed no more prompting. A massive concentrating of converging torpedo fire descended. The nuclear-scale explosions scoured the side of A Bao a Qu and left huge, spreading cracks in the rock. The station-keeping thrusters it had began to automatically fire to counteract the momentum imparted. Seeing one in his targeting sight, Lar'shan quickly fired on it and was rewarded with a massive blossom of fire from the surface close in the wake of the destruction of the beam shield projector.

The more important thing was that an entire sector was now uncovered by Beam Shields. The Federal Navy knew what to do. Instantly, the converging fire of twenty capital ships or more scoured the surface of A Bao a Qu as mobile suits dove in to spread out from the cone of death and destroy anything they found on the surface. This had abruptly gotten much too hot.

"All squadrons, WC50 Actual, break off! Pull back! We've done our job! Regroup around the ruins of the Solar Ray!"

* * *

"Captain, one of the defence sectors on A Bao A Qu just lost beam shielding," Arterus reported. "We do have an engagement angle for the forward batteries."

The last order that Zhen'var kept to herself, as the crew responded to the stressful situation around them, unlike any they had trained for.

"Tactical, give them everything we have left forward, empty the capacitors and magazines." Her voice was still calm as she watched the tell-tales slowly flickering to amber or red as her command took more damage. It was not hopeless, not yet, their fire _was_ telling, but the outcome remained seriously in doubt.

Daria cued up the forward batteries and started firing the Mk.2 PPCs and Mk.1 PPCs on the forward arc, leaping across open space to strike A Bao a Qu within a fraction of a second. The Solar torpedoes began to follow them in.

Chief Carstairs, standing in at Ops at this point, flung a look to the Captain. "We've lost the doors on the main hangar, Ma'am. A group tried to exploit; three of them made it through our batteries. They're coming in, Captain-we have mobile suits boarding the ship."


	17. Episode 3 Act 6 and Tag

**Act Six**

Fei'nur had taken considerable measures to prepare the _Huáscar_ against boarding. Part of that was driven by Zhen'var's paranoia after the coup in her own crew. The Marine complement was more heavily Dilgar, and under Fei'nur's command, Zhen'var certainly had a subconscious tendency to regard them as utterly reliable. Fei'nur for her part had picked people who were, in fact, reliable. The Warmaster's step-daughter was a bit strange, but orders were orders, and Fei'nur had rather started to regard her CO fondly; she did have good instincts.

For this operation, Fei'nur had prepared her defences with special attention to the risk of heavy firepower being brought into the ship. She had, after all, put considerable effort into reinforcing her troops to deal with _precisely_ that kind of threat.

Janice Armstrong as the Security Lead was coordinating the overall defences of the _Huáscar_ against any potential boarders, but it was the Dilgar Major Kel'dar with the Marines remaining aboard who had the heavy weapons closest to the hangar bays when Armstrong's message echoed in his headpiece in his tactical suit. "All Hands Stand By To Repel Boarders. Enemy Mobile Suits entering the main hangar!"

"Confirmed. One company standing by, Major, redeploying Charlie to Company to respond," Kel'dar answered. Colonel Fei'nur, who would inevitably know exactly what to do, was not here. This was not at all a problem, because she had left instructions in the event of an attack of this type by the Mobile suits. Instructions that were mildly nuts, but Kel'dar wasn't about to question a Spectre. He had served one tour on Balos as a fourteen year old conscript before being sent back to a depot on Rohric with wounds. No way would he question a woman who had survived years there.

"I can't believe we're about to do this, Sir," Lieutenant Har'un muttered, "but the charges are properly set and armed."

"Battlemaster Fei'nur says we do it, we do it," Kel'dar answered. "This ship is much more rugged than our's and we're in our suits."

"The crew isn't, Sir."

"And I don't know how that started - but just because there's mewling idiots or nobles getting their fur fluffed every day somewhere at top doesn't mean we need to bone ourselves for the sake of a couple of morons not in vacsuits!"

"Sir." Har'un, who had been born after the war on Tira, thought some of the crew of the _Huáscar_ would be really upset at that callousness, but they weren't here to hear; the Major's command staff was basically all Dilgar.

In the glorified arms-locker that served as his area command post, Kel'dar brought up an image of the massive suits now angling for the shattered doors of the hangar bay. "Inform Sergeant Waters' detachment to stand ready." He liked Sergeant Waters; she was one of the most reliable humans under his command.

"Sergeant Waters' says Team Lion is powered up and waiting for orders," Gunnery Sergeant Tir'ga answered a moment later. "She asks for clearance to detonate the charges."

"Order her to stand by. We don't want to give them a warning!" Then he switched to the Engineering code on his tacsuit. Fei'nur hadn't asked, there hadn't been time. There wasn't really time now, either, but Kel'dar had learned something about covering your ass in Allliance service. "Major Kel'dar to Engineering - Is there anything critical in the starboard bulkhead of Cargo Hold Eight?"

Anna, standing in a torn vest and a rebreather in the midst of main engineering, who thought she was minutes away from restoring shields, got this expression on her face like she was personally aggrieved by the distraction, and pulled at her honey-blonde hair. She answered the comm with a _glorious_ level of frustration at a _damn marine_ asking her about a _bulkhead_ in the middle of a desperate fight to save the ship. "Major… _No_. Now shut up, I'm busy!"

The Dilgar major shrugged and switched the channel without a word. "Damage Control Central, stand by imminent internal explosion, Cargo Hold Eight."

The Marines looked at each other. Sergeant Waters was sitting in the turret of the massive Nazi Lowe in full vacuum rig, now repainted in Alliance colours. "Up-shot!"

One of the Dilgar rankers rolled out of the way. "Charge ready, Sir!" Echoed through Kel'dar's comm.

"Gelgoog in the bay! Gelgoog in the bay!" The warning echoed over Kel'dar's suit com. "Blow it," he said simply.

The sappers dashed to cover, having frantically set their breaching charges to bring down the structural frames. " _Fire in the hole_!" One of them was still sliding behind the cargo containers when the signal flashed to the detonators, and a precisely timed chorus of explosions rippled across the bulkhead before the massive panzers.

The targeting sensors for the gunners resolved on the lead Gelgoog which had landed in the hangar bay and was still reacting to the abrupt explosions. "Take the shot!" Through the swirling air of partial decompression, with an enormous noise which could be heard throughout the entire ship, the three tanks fired in short succession.

These were no Earth Federation tanks with totally inadequate weapons. The main guns on the Nazi tanks were more than capable enough for what happened next. A Gelgoog's left leg was blown off and the suit thrown violently into the far wall of the hangar. The second suit coming in behind it to help clear opposition for the boarders couldn't pull back in time and met a similar fate, slammed into a tangled pile of debris in the main hangar, as even on the bridge the noise sounded more like they were an old dreadnought thundering main gun broadsides in the atmosphere than a proper starship.

A third suit halted on the edge of the bay and tracked down the holes in the bulkhead, opening fire with two beam rifles. It was a model none of them had seen before. The tanks were, based on the amount of bulkhead destroyed-the lower part of the bulkhead had been intentionally left intact-were essentially 'hull down', and the pilot confronted with the unusual scenario had tried to burn straight through the remainder of the blasted and rended bulkhead. His fire chewed through it, but failed to hit the tanks' turrets.

Firing again and again, the guns of his suit quickly proved to have inadequate firepower to punch through the internal armoured bulkheads of the _Huáscar_ -the Nazi cannon were designed to pierce immensely thick armour, the weapons of the Zeonic forces, conversely, to guarantee destruction of tin cans in space-they were very good at that and now inadequate for the task they were given _._ The suit activated its beam sabres instead and advanced.

Jess Waters certainly had a moment of sheer terror course through her. From a distance of less than a hundred meters, a charging Gelgoog with a glowing beam sword was rushing toward her and her three-tank section. She finished dialing in the gun on the charging form. "Guns, do we have charge?"

"Two seconds, Sarge!"

They would have been dead except for the need of the suit to surmount the barrier of the crushed, blasted, melted and rent bulkhead. She adjusted fire again to aim at the lower servos as she watched the suit move with the smoothness of a living being. "All tanks, on my sight, fire!"

A fresh burst of synchronized rounds dropped it to the deck with the others. One moment he had been ready to plunge them to death, to carry on his mission, and the next, the three shots tearing into the heart of the suit, it was sprawled across the sheared bulkhead, teams of Marines going in to secure it, the others, and the pilots. It was a moment of true bravery, but it had not advanced as fast as the Nazi guns recharged and tracked. Jess, with a tinge of reverent nervousness, patted the Zeiss sight and shook her head, tense and ready for the next attack.

Nothing else followed. They had stopped the suits cold. A moment later, working around the shock and the roars above her, Anna restored the full tertiary shield coverage for the _Huáscar,_ and the threat was permanently ended.

* * *

Kusko Al tore through another lightning series of manoeuvres, closely followed by Char. Repeatedly she bore in on the Gundam just to be driven off by the Red Comet's furious manoeuvres. Then the Gundam would come about and try to pin her down again, and she'd divert her combat remotes to face it instead. Properly trained in their use as an Elmeth pilot, she was confident that Char could have _never_ equaled her on the Zeong. He had never been as powerful of a Newtype as anyone who had come out of the Flanagan Institute.

She was still totally defensive and she knew it, but the rage that suffused her from her days in the Flanagan Institute would broke no patience and no surrender. The steadily spiralling reports of major Zeon defections, fleets and squadrons declaring for Casval Rem Deikun, just drove her onwards.

"You are the new best pilot of Zeon," Gihren's voice echoed into her helmet. "Fighting the Red Comet and the Gundam at once you are our future. Hold your position and there _will_ be help coming."

A part of her vaguely wondered by the leader of the people of Zeon, personally commanding the immense fortress of A Bao A Qu, didn't have anything better to do but try and encourage her. She didn't need it. Kusko could _feel_ both Char and Amuro, hesitating, still making appeals to her.

Then words of pure dread cut across the channel. "The interstellar ship, its beam fields have been re-activated!"

The despairing declaration from one of her surviving subordinate Mobile Suit pilots cratered her heart out. Major Ridden and the Chimera Corps had failed. They'd never be able to punch through them now. It brought her out of the total target fixation on her two rival Newtypes and led her to search for a solution to the desperate straits she was now in. Her command was going to be destroyed and Zeon was going to lose the war unless she stopped that massive ship that had conspired with Char to commit treason. And she needed the solution now.

Jinking clear of the Gundam and Char, she through her jets into a high burn and recalled her bit pods. Escaping from battle the thrusters still had plenty of power in a shock, sharp move to carry her clear as both of the rival suits moved to pursue, buying her seconds of freedom. It looked like she was going in the wrong direction to get anything done, though. Instead, she was looking for a way to save the battle.

She found one in a nearby Federation cruiser, repositioning itself to fire its main beam cannon on another sector of A Bao A Qu that had lost shielding. As it did, its bow arc was swinging toward the _Huáscar._ She dove on it and opened fire on the port thruster block with her mega particle cannon, casually dodging the defending fire of the desperate cruiser. Slicing it clean off the hull, she intentionally avoided a kill and then looped around the cruiser and swung herself back toward her enemies, splitting her bit pods up to engage with converging fire at both the Gundam and Char.

The crippled Federation ship was now spinning, uncontrolled, straight for the _Huáscar_ 's shields. _We are not finished! Not. Yet!_

* * *

The bridge crew had barely stopped feeling good about the restoration of their shields. Daria had punched through another dozen Mobile Suits with the remaining light batteries. The boarding contingents were beating a hasty retreat. The battle seemed to be well-in-hand.

Then the Earth Federation Cruiser making its turn abruptly stopped and dog-legged back in on itself with partial thrust. That partial thrust was driving it straight toward them and their still-tenuous tertiary shielding.

Zhen'var saw it, and called out - "Incoming derelict! Emergency evasion! Tactical, target that cruiser, _do not fire unless I order!"_

The jury-rigged manoeuvring system Anna had supplied screamed as the vanes on the impulse engines countered the lack of starboard thrusters. Slowly the _Huáscar_ started to turn, but the hull of the tumbling Federal cruiser was coming in faster.

"Collision alarm!" It was going to hit, _Huáscar_ was sluggish, and her secondary systems like her tractors had been less important than shields and weapons. She had tried to wait for the last moment, and now it was here. "Tactical! Fi-"

As the _Huáscar_ 's bridge crews and sensor operators watched the steadily looming cruiser a quarter of her own length, a shadow flashed across the hull. The _Heermann_ had arrived, slashing down from the Z-positive.

Abebech Imra's ship targeted a group of Gelgoogs still showing standard Zeon IFFs as she dived, her lighter weapons tearing through seven of them in the space of seconds. A main battery burst vapourised a Rick Dom in her way, leaving so much disassociated plasma behind.

* * *

The Ethiopian woman sized up the situation from the bedrock of more experience than she cared to admit, and saw exactly what Zhen'var was about to do. "Transporters, commence emergency beam-outs from coordinates being supplied by Commander Goodenough, now!" She looked to Goodenough with a single nod.

He needed nothing else to send the coordinates of the cruiser and drop their shields, that immensely risky act in the middle of battle. As the shields went down on the _Heermann,_ the transporters immediately started working, and a moment later they had the range.

"Mehmet, tractors!"

" _Brace yourself!"_ He activated the tractors and, at high-vee relative to the target, locked on to the cruiser. The shudder was followed by a terrible whiplash which sent the _Heermann_ ninety degrees over to starboard on her X axis too fast for the inertial dampers to compensate. The freshly rescued Federal personnel were bowled like tenpins and the bridge crew strained to keep their stations, but there was Commander Imra calmly hanging in her harness as if she had experienced the same a dozen times before.

The crippled cruiser lurched violently to the side and with her momentum cancelled, the massive bulk of the _Huáscar_ swept past with a few hundred metres to spare. Her light guns were pumping fire into a group of Gelgoogs coming on to port as her beam was cleared of the cruiser. The _Huáscar_ rapidly claimed four of them and the others pulled back and concentrated on the crippled cruiser rather than face the tremendous defensive firepower of the Alliance ship. The cruiser was not long for the world, but the beam-outs of the crew of the crippled ship continued until the last possible moment as the fire and explosions spread across her decks. Abebech stared intently at the tactical plot.

"Captain, shall we raise shields? The cruiser's been destroyed!" The belowdecks of the _Heermann_ were packed with survivors in spacesuits, stumbling about bewildered. There hadn't been enough time for the Federation forces to be briefed, after all.

"Negative," Abebech answered. "Commander Goodenough, you have the conn. Maintain evasive manoeuvres. Defensive only." A mega particle cannon hit the _Heermann_ hard enough to rip into the bare self-healing armour and Goodenough shot her a look.

"Captain? We are taking fires, Ma'am."

She didn't look up, but instead continued staring intently at the tactical plot. "I need to settle a situation quickly. I will be in main transporter control. Keep the shields down until I order otherwise." With that, she unstrapped from her command chair, and strode purposefully below decks.

As Goodenough levered himself over to the command chair of the _Heermann,_ checking systems, a petty officer taking over his own console, Captain Zhen'var's voice came through the ship to ship. The ship's armour was wracked with blow after blow, status indicators lighting up. The _Heermann_ was not designed to take it like the _Huáscar_ had been.

"Thank you for the assist, Commander Imra. Status?"

"Captain Zhen'var, this is Commander Goodenough. Commander Imra went below, she has a plan for… Something, involving the transporter. I was ordered to keep shields down and maintain an evasive and defensive posture until otherwise directed."

"Understood, Commander. Tactical, cover the _Heermann!_ Helm, keep our heavy launchers on that asteroid base as best you can!" As the immense _Huáscar_ obeyed and swung to cover the smaller ship, the desperate fire of the mobile suits abruptly slacked, and Goodenough knew it had happened only one way, many of the Zeon pilots had abruptly died under the accurate fire of the cruiser.

He spared a glance to the long-range tactical. A Bao a Qu had huge missing pieces. The converging beams were stitching through the asteroids with such intensity that parts were glowing as lava fields. The defensive fire had considerably slackened, and the thrusters were no longer successfully holding position, so that the massive station was slowly rotating. That, however, was also bringing new sectors with intact beam fields and defensive battalions into the battle against the _Huáscar,_ but it was now so heavily damaged that it scarcely had a dramatic effect. Even as the _Huáscar_ turned to cover them, every heavy weapon which could bear upon the great fortress was still firing.

Goodenough only spared a single look for it. This was a battle as severe as any he had been in against the Reich, and with its own unique and terrible qualities. Now he just had to keep the ship in one piece for his Commander for a few more minutes…

* * *

Kusko Al had lost two of her remote units and was limited to the main body cannon and those on the command head structure of the MSN-02. She was still holding on in the fight against Char and Amuro, but as the _Huáscar_ had cleared her last-ditch attempt to knock out the great starship's shields, she could feel hope fade in herself, and confidence surge in the enemies around her. Self doubt gnawed: _How can I take the best of both sides? By myself?_

Aboard the _Heermann,_ Abebech calmly worked an interesting transporter problem. Using the transporters tactically was rarely done. It was very hard to get a lock on a rapidly manoeuvring target, from a rapidly manoeuvring target. Still, it was possible, if you could forsee the next moment in the path of an object… Or a person.

For a brief instant, Kusko Al felt the power around her, cold and confident, in a way that none of the Newtypes yet were. But before she could react to it, Abebech had her lock, and in the same heartbeat reached out and activated the transporter mechanism.

In a flash, the MSN-02 was flying straight and level. Amuro swung in with the beam cannon and fired. One more kill for the Gundam. But even as he did, he realised he had not taken the life he had prepared himself so brutally to take, that he could feel, even then, still alive.

Instead, the young woman from the Flanagan Institute materialised in the transporter room of the _Heermann._ Abebech had already punched open the intercom to the bridge. "Commander Goodenough, get the shields up and fall in with the _Huáscar_!"

"With pleasure, Sir!" He answered, losing himself for a moment to his Royal Navy days.

Kusko looked around the transporter room in shock, composing herself. She reached out with her power and tested herself against Abebech, but Newtypes had not been trained in _anything_ of the sort, even in the Flanagan Institute. There they had been trained to interface with technology and little else.

Anyway, Abebech had a solution for that. She slugged Kusko Al so hard that she broke the helmet to her spacesuit, her gloved hand acting like a heavyweight's under a boxing glove, with no instinct to pull the blow. The young woman dropped like a rock.

Abebech looked down and shook her head. "You'll thank me later," she said, and then stuffed her into the equipment locker, sealed it shut, and jogged back to the bridge.

* * *

"Captain, the _Heermann_ has brought her shields up and is falling in to starboard to cover our damaged flank," Arterus reported on the bridge of the _Huáscar._ Suddenly another great moment of tension in the battle faded.

"Six hundred and fifty forward torpedoes fired, Captain," Daria added her own report. "Down to fifty left in the forward magazines."

"Cease firing with torpedoes for now, take us in closer, Helm. Give Tactical better sensor resolution, we need to make our shots count. I want that base knocked out… and I want sensor coverage in case our quarry attempts to escape."

Barely had the confirmations been verbally affirmed when a new voice demanded her attention.

"Captain, this is Engineering," Anna's familiar lightly accented tone wafted to her ears. "My EVA teams have completed enough thruster repairs that I've disabled the baffle restricted regime on the impulse drives. You have full impulse. We also have Warp Six, and half strength on secondary shields to reinforce the tertiaries."

"Helm, you heard the woman, take us in, Tactical, _take down that station!"_

"Tactical," Fera'xero said urgently, "I've completed an analysis of the station structure and I have three likely points for the CIC. All three could be within range of our cannon with a preparatory bombardment by torpedoes. Data at your console, now."

"We barely have enough torpedoes left," Daria murmured. "Helm, stand by for target one." She flipped the data over to Violeta.

"Target one at… Zero-four-zero…. Stand by… You are in alignment, Tactical."

"Firing torpedoes." A ten torpedo spread swept across the remaining space between the _Huáscar_ and A Bao a Qu. A vast rippling series of thermonuclear grade explosions tore into the station. "PPCs… _Firing._ " A huge secondary explosion erupted. "Good hits, good secondaries. Clear for second target, Helm." She was sweating, desperate to make it count, to end this miserable fighting.

"...Zero-two-niner… You are in alignment, Tactical."

"Firing."

"Captain," Lieutenant Tor'jar pitched his voice to cut through the noise of the bridge. "A Bao a Qu on the tactical frequency signalling their surrender!"

"Put them through! Keep an eye out for our quarry!" The Captain's voice did not show any triumph or elation, just the same flat, calm tone she had through most of the battle.

Daria quietly reached over and activated the self-destruct transmission to the torpedoes before they reached the asteroid. If they had gone into it they would have certainly finished the total destruction of the base. The Captain had only reserved the order to take life, not to save it.

* * *

Gihren looked relaxed despite everything, calm under the crushing weight of acceleration. "We'll have a second chance to get the interstellar ship when they pursue us to Axis," he was explaining. "A force of ships was sent to recover the contents of the Flanagan Institute. With Newtypes and new Mobile Suits we'll be able to ambush them when they move into the asteroid belt. Indeed, it may be easier, since they won't have a federation fleet to help them."

The ship they were on had already left A Bao a Qu well in advance of the surrender. Several entire fleets were falling back with them. The rest of the Zeon Space Forces had switched sides to support Char; there was little question that the majority of Zeon's population was going to support the arrival of Casval Rem Deikun, the Red Comet.

Kycilia leaned back and shook her head. "Gihren, where there's smoke there's fire, and where there's one, there's twenty. We lost our chance. Such a great Alliance has more ships, and those ships will be coming. You lost your chance to become the Liberator of the Spacenoids by killing as many of them as you did of Earthnoids."

Gihren's eyes snapped into focus, glaring at Kycilia. But her pistol was already out, and the beam lanced out, scouring the far wall of the cabin as it drove straight through his skull. A look of perfect surprise formed on his lips before his brain ceased processing his thoughts. He had never been prepared for the abrupt changes these interstellar visitors had brought. He had never been prepared for the Newtypes. And in the end, he had never given Kycilia her due.

As his body slid back against the rear wall under the influence of thrust gravity, she holstered her pistol, mussed her hair, and slid back to unslip Gihren's gun from its own holster. "That was for father."

For a moment, she regarded her brother and she tried to think of any sympathy or pity, but it had been long gone. In fact, though she had invoked Degwin, she wasn't really sure that was why as the curious detachment floated over her, comfortably. The only thing she could think of was little Garma, pushed into war and responsibility too soon, and taken from her. Now that Char had revealed himself as Casval, she had plenty of suspicions about that. Consumed with those thoughts, she remained quiet as she pulled herself by the grab-irons out of the cabin and forward toward the bridge.

"Commandant Gihren took his own life," she said quietly as she arrived. "In shame that his murder of Prince Degwin led to nothing but defeat. Set a course to rendezvous with General Rimini's fleet, we will need them for what comes next."

* * *

Onboard the bridge of the _Zanzibar,_ Elia paced under the assistance of the steady thrust as they burned toward the outer system. Finally, she turned, and walked to the intercom. "Comrades, I've been transmitting everything we've picked up from A Bao a Qu directly to the intercoms for a reason. You've heard it for yourselves. The Red Comet, your commander, Major Aznable, is Casval Rem Deikun, the son and heir of the founder of Zeon. Truly our next leader. He has assumed the mantle of authority of the State, as a just response to the traitorous murder of Prince Degwin by his own son, during Gihren Zabi's attempted usurpation of authority."

"General Rimini's forces are certainly aware of these developments, they have the same receiving gear we do. I am now going to issue orders in the name of Casval Rem Deikun to the fleet. If General Rimini does not acknowledge his authority, we will have a fight on our hands, and at the worst, we may be sorely outnumbered."

"Stations." She dragged herself to the command chair and strapped in as the alarms sounded. The crew obeyed her with alacrity. They were Char's, and for them, the decision had been a simple one. Lalah Sune stood at the side of her command chair, expression intent on her face.

Fei'nur still had an expression on her face that could cut steel, braced against the command chair as the engines flared - for the first time, she 'thought' loudly. _Just what are you planning, Commander El'sau?_

Elia glanced toward her. _Well, I'm going to force them to switch sides. I don't want to get to wherever we're headed, and it's a long journey on a slow boat._

 _They are retreating to join our true targets. The Zabi think like the Supreme Warmaster, but without her skill. They fall back to fight, as long as there is any hope at all. They want to draw us to our own Balos._

 _Are you saying you think that General Rimini will_ ** _definitely_** _refuse my appeal?_

 _He may. I do not know his measure or loyalties. There were fools who stood against her on Omelos, no matter the damage it dealt to the war effort._

 _Understood. We'll be doing this anyway, then. Fei'nur… If you want to help, and I mean really help, could you go stand by the bridge windows… And open your mind to me?_

 _... I do not like this idea, El'sau._ The last came across with a wry tone, as she moved to stand at the bridge windows, forcing her mind to calmness.

 _...I respect that. But I wear our uniform for a reason, and that will never change. Please, sight General Rimini's bridge with your enhanced optics, and keep it in focus._

She could feel a flash of realisation, as Fei'nur braced herself, cybernetic eyes stabilizing on the ship visible in their formation, and then disconcertingly closely zoomed on the bridge of the Zeon flagship.

"Comrades of Zeon, this is Commander Saumarez of Casval Rem Deikun's flagship, the _Zanzibar._ We are loyal to Casval, Char Aznable, the Red Comet! The son of our founder and the visionary of our nation!" Elia's voice cut through the void on the speakers of dozens of ships. "One of our great opportunities is to be a home for the evolution of humanity, exactly as Zeon Zum Deikun foretold in the Contolist Philosophy. That evolution has happened around us, with the manifestation of the Newtypes. It is nothing to be afraid of-it is the evolution of our shared future, which will make Zeon great and glorious in the future."

"In Casval Rem Deikun, the future of the spacenoids will be realised. The murderous treasons which characterised the House of Zabi will end, and with them, the abuse of our fellow Spacenoids in other sides who we tyrannized under the false motives of the House of Zabi, when they should have been our comrades, our brothers and sisters whom we fought to liberate, not to destroy."

"It was this error which led to pain and bloodshed in the One Year War instead of glorious victory. Now, as we work with Casval Rem Deikun to make sense of the pain, to rebuild, and to give a future to our descendants, the hour is at hand to make our choice. Do we follow the House of Deikun, the light which showed the way, or do we remain mired in darkness and defeat? _Zanzibar_ will stand for the light, and against the darkness. If you wish to stand against us, remember that you also stand against the Red Comet!"

As she spoke, her mind came gently in touch with Fei'nur. The two were very dissimilar people. El'sau was an aristocrat, from an old military family, who had endured great hardships from being in the Corps, but had done with every resource she had needed to prosper. Fei'nur had known the typical life of a Dilgar of Ogkharin, a working class girl who had carefully hidden the ways she was not quite normal from family and friends, to fit into the regime's expectations for what she should be.

Together, though, they shared a stubborn loyalty that few could match. And in Elia, that loyalty was now forever encompassing of the Mha'dorn, the Dilgar telepaths, as much as her own people. She was a woman between two worlds, in some respect half Dilgar and half human. Tira had changed her forever, and her words had been honest. There was no going back. Lalah knew the truth of it, as she reached out and had her training firsthand through Elia's mind.

Together, linked, Fei'nur could feel El'sau see through her eyes. She reached in and focus on General Rimini's bridge crew. The man had been handpicked to evacuate to Axis. Elia couldn't directly see him, but she could feel the other members of the crew. Brushing aside the immorality of what she was about to do, she reached into the mind of one of the bridge officers through Fei'nur.

Her cybernetics activated, keeping her emotions calm, avoiding any spikes that could throw off a Mha'dorn using her as a bridge link. She was not a telepath, she never would be - but the Mha'dorn had always been an integral part of the Imperium's war machine, and the Spectres had trained with - and against - them. Her mind relaxed as chemicals diffused into her bloodstream, letting as much of the telepath's effort through her as she could.

She peeled away layers of the distant man's mind, un-used to the idea of blocking, and dove in deep, grabbing control of his musculature, his movements. He slipped the gun from its holster, and she took his words. "Long Live Casval Rem Deikun! Avenge Zeon Zum Deikun! _Sieg Zeon_!"

The gun fired at General Rimini. The intensity of what they were doing, the cruel necessity, made the young Hyderabadi ensign tense at her side, but in it, too, her heartfelt love and loyalty for Char carried her on. This was the sausage-making of nations, as unpleasant as it was necessary.

As tenderly as she could, Elia withdrew from Fei'nur's mind, respectful of the woman's discomfort, of her privacy. Around her, the crew of the _Zanzibar_ began to report ship after ship, proclaiming for Casval. The flagship was silent in the chaos she had caused.

* * *

The Federal Navy lay off A Bao a Qu with the _Huáscar,_ in the general jubilation of a truce a few hours later. The formal peace talks between Casval and the Federation leadership would commence on the _Huáscar_ in three days, assuming the Alliance didn't countermand them.

Abebech stalked through the corridors of A Bao a Qu with a scanner and a squad of Marines. They'd had to engage a couple of Gihren loyalist holdouts, but for the most part all the Zeon troops were claiming loyalty to Char/Casval and being helpful. It was a group of them who finally led her here.

She paused and looked, intently, through her sunglasses at the scene in the room. It was a production line, and unfinished on it were three MSN-02 units with Psycommu fittings and the necessary manufacturing elements.

For a moment Abebech was very lost. And then she started softly humming a line of verse:

" _To defend_  
This is the pact  
But when life's scorned  
And damage done  
To avenge  
This is the pact."

"All right, start setting the charges," she ordered the Marines. Her mind was still aflame with distant memories of ships on fire across the rings of Saturn and a dozen other worlds, of seas of lava where people had lived. Of the keening scream in her mind of a Condor, offering both hope and death in the same hand.

She turned and stepped out of the assembly hall, then activated her omnitool. "Captain Zhen'var, I'll be aboard the _Huáscar_ to report in approximately fifteen minutes. One site to fire, no risk to the installation."

"Understood, Commander. Well done, I assume. I look forward to hearing it." There was a pleased undercurrent to the woman's voice - she still held local command, on her badly battered ship.

"Thank you, Captain. I think you will yet find yourself remembered as a friend to Espers as well as a true Dilgar. Thank you for trusting me."

"You are welcome. I await your report." The comms unit clicked off, as Zhen'var leaned back in her ready room's chair, the _piles_ of paperwork that awaited any commander after a battle ignored as she stared at the bulkhead. The casualty report lay upon it, and her Surgeon-Commander was working to stop it from growing. It would remain to be seen if her commanders _supported_ her initiative, or rebuked her for it, her runabouts still supporting rescue efforts in shattered mobile suits and capital ships in the massive debris field that remained of the battle.

The Ready Room door trilled. The computer, ever-too-helpful, announced the person at the door. "Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu."

Exhausted eyes looked up with a momentary flicker of confusion, which faded as she straightened her uniform and sat up. "Enter, Lieutenant."

The Rihannsu man stepped in and saluted. He looked exhausted, but proud. "Captain. We've received a radio message from the _Zanzibar._ Commander Saumarez has secured the loyalty of a Zeon fleet that was evacuating to a base in the Asteroid Belt called 'Axis'."

"The base itself?" She had an interesting expression on her face - Zeon had not _totally_ acknowledged Casval - a situation that left her in a somewhat _delicate_ moment until reinforcements arrived.

"It's in the asteroid belt, which is a half-month's voyage for the local ships to conserve fuel," Arterus answered. "Probably best to leave it until reinforcements arrive, if I may tender my advice, Captain."

"I am not keen to have the Marines firing heavy ordinance _inside_ the ship again, that is agreed. Continue to monitor the situation, please. We do not have the remaining war criminals in custody as yet."

"Understood, Captain." He came to attention. "It was an honour to see action under your command, Captain. The Elements permitted us to live the fate of a _Huáscar._ Apparently, the Surgeon-Commander has the pilots of two mobile suits that boarded us as POWs in sickbay. Luckier heirs of Captain Prat, Ma'am." As a cultured Rihannsu, Arterus had made sure to fully study the history of the name of his ship.

"If we confirm them as being not implicated of war crimes, I look forward to arranging their repatriation. _Heermann_ has transferred theirs aboard as well, I understand?"

"Those they recovered, Captain. There were just two. The rest of those they saved were Federation officers and men."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She checked her omni-tool. _Enough time to seek a parole from them before Imra arrives, barely. I'll meet her at the transporter._

* * *

For a few tense hours, Elia Saumarez had in fact found herself the commander of a fleet, like her illustrious ancestors. Fei'nur's speculation had disabused her of the notion that their mission was over. Instead, she kept them at enhanced readiness, and waited.

Completing her reports within her sea cabin, she felt the touch of Lalah's mind, the warning. _A Zeon Vessel from B Sector of the A Bao a Qu defence forces approaching,_ she flashed.

Elia got to her feed and worked her way out onto the bridge, reaching out to gently put a hand on Lalah's shoulder. _You may not want war, but you're a good officer._

 _I'm a good officer because Char needs me to be,_ she answered, _but I understand more of the motivations of war than I thought I did, now._

 _Unfortunately, humanity is so very good at finding those._

 _Is it not forever so?_ Lalah answered.

Elia strapped herself into the command chair again. She didn't answer because it was true, and it didn't bear endlessly reprising that truth.

Fei'nur was _tense_ , and she barely restrained herself from pacing as her hand clamped onto the side of Elia's chair. Anything approaching from A Bao A Qu was _not_ good news.

"Do we have an identity on the incoming ships?"

"No, Commander Saumarez," the lead comms tech answered. "They might be random ships that escaped the battle, but I don't know why they'd be on a heading for Axis…"

And then the comm activated, on tight-beam transmission from the incoming ships to minimise the bleedback into the Earthsphere.

"General Rimini, General Rimini, this is Minister of the Interior Kycilia Zabi. We are joining your fleet in the retreat to Axis. Please provide us with an approach vector and burn schedule for synchronising our approach."

When Fei'nur spoke, it was in Dilgar; " _I suggest leading a boarding attack if we intend to take her alive, Commander."_ Or dead, it has been a long while since I removed such a high value target. bled through from her thoughts, the commando's posture betraying her eagerness.

"Answer through the flagship," Elia ordered. "' _This is Commander Saumarez, Officer of the Watch for General Rimini. Stand by for your transmission."_ She paused. "Then send them the necessary vectors." A glance to Fei'nur. "Battlemaster, you rank me. Prepare your Marines at your discretion. You have your boarding action."

Fei'nur gave a single nod, and started immediately transmitting from her sub-vocal implant. A boarding action of an enemy flagship? She had _always_ wanted to try that.

Once Kycilia's loyalists had shifted into position, Elia sent the next message, which was a simple request for General Rimini to have permission to transfer over by shuttle and make his report on the status of the 116th Assault Fleet in person. When it was accepted, she nodded sharply to Fei'nur. "Want us to go with you?" She asked, gesturing to herself and Lalah. "You can say no. Ma'am."

"If you wish, you may. I can remove her myself. It is… what I was made for, after all. Getting _out_ was often an ill-defined part of the plan, however."

"We should try to take her into custody, Battlemaster," Lalah said abruptly, stepping in to join the conversation boldly. "I know Char wants her gone, but it would be good to put a Zabi on trial."

"Difficult, but a worthy challenge. If so, I very much want you both. I can incapacitate her, quickly, but I will need coverage exfiltrating with her dead-weight, Battle Expert. Draw weapons and gear, we need to move quickly before she grows impatient."

* * *

The two women were in Zeon combat gear with a squad of Zeon volunteers. Unlike before, the crew of the _Zanzibar_ was now unambiguously reliable. The ship Kycilia had escaped on loomed before them as they approached the docking bay, matching _vee_ and then coming in on final approach.

"All I need is enough time to get there, then enough distraction to escape. Good luck, Battle Expert." Before their eyes, she faded away, and disconcertingly, the feel of her mind faded as well, to a vague sense, even when they knew she was standing _right there_.

"I'll never get used to that," Elia muttered softly. She nodded to Lalah. "Stand ready…"

The younger, shorter woman took a breath, nodded back. _Ready._

The hatch swung down. Dressed in Zeon uniforms the two floated down the ramp. They had to act immediately, since Kycilia likely knew who Lalah was. Ahead of them was the glassed in control position for the bay, and Elia reached out, gripping into the mind of the operator, peeling back the layers of any untrained resistance and seizing his upper body as she locked the rest in place. Immediately, she directed his muscles in the form and function necessary to deactivate the security cameras.

Lalah reached out, following her lead, and worked into the minds of the welcoming party. She slowed their reaction time to the strange approach as Elia completed the first step of her attack The moment Elia had finished securing the visual alarm systems, she turned her attention, mind joined with Lalah, and rapidly immobilized the full complement in the bay.

One of the doors cycled open - that would be Fei'nur, as the Marines came charging down the ramp at the first signal, thrusters firing softly as they moved - weapons cycled as fast as they could, stunning them as per their commander's orders, who knew from hearsay the effects of being in someone's mind when they died.

It was something that Elia desperately wanted to avoid, and especially for Lalah. There was a sense of relief as they drew back and let the men and women in the bay collapse from the stun-fire. _It's all right. They'll be fine._

 _I still want this to be over,_ she answered. _Is this the last act of this terrible war? Truly?_

 _With you at Char's side, yes, I think it might just be._

With a tight, but content smile, Lalah advanced to the forward positions with the Dilgar marines, Elia covering her. Now, they just had to hold for Fei'nur…

The whole point, of course, was to avoid detection until the moment was at hand. Nothing happened until Fei'nur reached the command suite within which Kycilia was waiting. Her red hair cut in the same length and style and her cool and composed expression in her ornate uniform made her something of a human, distorted mirror of Jha'dur. The mask accentuated the effect by hiding more of what was unambiguously human.

For a melancholy moment, the last Spectre paused. What was would never be again, even if she some day found where her Warmaster had gone. It _could not be_. It had ended, just as _this_ must. The old days were lost in ash and dust. Only Shai'jhur remained.

She raised her weapon and fired at the guards first, on stun. They toppled, and Kycilia whipped around to face the empty space in the command bridge. It was too much of a shock, too much outside of their technological schema.

Kycilia opened her mouth, but before she could form a word, the next wide-beam stun shot dropped her. Moving rapidly, Fei'nur turned to suppress the rest of the bridge, firing as she ran, essentially in a circle around the open space available to her to leave their shots in return going wide.

Five more seconds on, and the crew in her sights was unconscious. She turned to Kycilia's prone form and flung her over the chameleon net. Oh, now she was visible in the sense that a collapsed woman 'floating' down the deck was blatantly obvious, but hitting her without riddling their commander with fire in the process when _Fei'nur_ still couldn't be seen was an almost impossible challenge, and gave her the good chance to she had to make good her escape.

She kicked off, internal gyros keeping her oriented as she swung around corridors, back towards the hangar bay she had first landed within and the rest of her team. The alarms would be sounding as she moved, quick as she was able. _Time_ mattered now, eventually they would throw enough desperate sorts before the commando to slow her down and get real sharpshooters in place.

Crewers were knocked out of the way, sent flying and in a few cases stabbed. There was no mercy, no slowing down. The extremely low gravity meant her speed was incredible with her cybernetic assisted muscles and internal gyroscopic stabilisation to keep her from losing her balance. Any issues the load of an unconscious human would have given her in full gravity were most assuredly not present.

She swung down through a hatch coaming, knocking two crewers out of the way who had been traveling up, responding to the alert. A beam of fire creased past her, but her knife settled the matter a moment later.

Next Fei'nur lunged down another deck, this time to find a crossfire sweeping through the space she descended. She dropped low, letting Kycilia's body shield her. The curses of the crewers told her the effect it had, and she quickly returned fire, stunning those in one direction before wriggling forward in the other.

Then, abruptly, the fire slacked off entirely. _Go, Fei'nur!_ Lalah Sune stood there, eyes flaring as the men were locked in place, at the end of the corridor.

Fei'nur pulled herself to her feet and slung her load back over her shoulder, taking off down the corridor. She was clear a moment later.

El'sau was coming up as she did, a grin on her face. "Battlemaster. Since we weren't doing anything else, we decided to advance."

"Well done, Battle Expert, but we have overstayed our welcome!" She wavered back into view as she spoke. "Fall back to the shuttle, we need to get clear before they make foolish decisions!"

Lalah stunned the men she'd immobilised with the Alliance weapon Elia had given her.

"Fall back, raid complete!" Elia shouted crisply. The Dilgar Marines covered them, falling back by the half-squad down the major corridors they'd occupied.

Fei'nur would hand off the unconscious Zabi to two of her Marines to concentrate on overseeing the withdrawal - the last one up the ramp, as she preferred, calling out as she threw herself for the ramp " _Go,_ all aboard!"

With anyone who came close enough to face Elia or Lalah at once halted in place, they had suffered no further casualties, and as Fei'nur climbed the ramp, Elia pulled her in. The moment it was secured, the pilot hit the manoeuvring jets to blow free from the bay, backing clear of the cruiser.

As they did, the _Zanzibar_ swung to face her, her beam gun ports charged. " _Broadcast your surrender or we will open fire in the name of the Red Comet,"_ they ordered Kycilia's ship. The game was over-the _war_ was over. For a few billion people, it had never been a game.

* * *

The next day, Zhen'var called her staff together for the hotwash. She would have done it the night before, but they still hadn't recovered Fei'nur and Elia and everyone was tremendously exhausted. The conference room was still a pile of rumpled uniforms, even _Abebech_ looked like she'd slept in her's, only Elia was perfectly made up. There was enough steam coming off the hot coffee and tea to make the glass of the table fog.

Three cruisers and a destroyer had joined them, too late for the fighting. Recovery operations had continued long into the night. The only noteworthy absence was Nah'dur, who had simply not shown up. "Captain," Elia began, "The Surgeon-Commander's apologies, but she has a backlog of life-saving critical emergency surgeries she's still working through."

"Mm. I shall not pull her away, after she finishes and has time to rest, we will have a smaller meeting with her. I will say to you all, very well done. We have achieved our goals, and we are still alive after having done so, if in need of dockyard time."

"A week," Anna sniffed. "There is much to go over, but, Captain, the most important lesson is that we were less damaged than we thought we were. The armour was penetrated only in six places, and each was with relatively minor consequences, contained by internal bulkheads. The problem was that the diffuse but high-power beam mission-killed a lot of our capabilities due to the concentrated damage on the starboard side."

"The baffles, for example," Violeta explained, "are intended to redirect thrust for manoeuvring. They're massively armoured and controlled by mechanical linkages so it should be impossible to knock them out without repeated direct hits, but the sustained exposure to the beams weakened the material so that they bent and ultimately jammed. We could have had full power manoeuvring back faster if we'd realised the problem and replaced parts by feeding them out through the slats in the armour. It would have required depressurizing subsection XR-8 and opening access panels to get at the electrohydraulic actuator mountings, but we have could have done it."

Anna nodded, and then gestured respectfully to Rick. "In the end it was the EVA teams which put us back in business, we assembled spare thruster blocks and started welding them to the starboard hull with flexible pass-thrus for the plasma once the restoration of shields made it possible for EVA teams to survive externally."

"Awwh, shucks, ma'am, just doin' our jobs…"

"The designers do not appear to have thought about what happens after the shields go _down_ , in terms of damage effects, do they? Systems failures and damage, I mean to say. We had multiple system failures from the beams, and extensive damage from precise fire to exposed emplacements and equipment, correct?"

"Correct," Will replied. "The self-healing armour did its job extremely well, the problem was the hardening of apertures against this kind of exposure to sustained energy at temperatures and power well in excess of what would be experienced in the outer layers of a typical system primary."

Zhen'var frowned. "During the Reich War, most vessels that lost shields did not survive the experience, did they? Survivorship bias, do you think?" Her expression showed she was deep in thought, occasionally tapping notes into the tablet before her.

"Also, Reich weapons were optimized to penetrate deeply and gut internal systems," Abebech spoke, barely more than a murmur, but authoritative nonetheless. "The Solar Ray produced an effect analogous to attempting to directly enter a Star, so it was broad-based across the entire hull. I expect that the designers simply considered redundancy to be sufficient and didn't attempt to consider a scenario where every single one of a piece of equipment on one beam was knocked out simultaneously."

"Suggestions for alternatives? Earthforce had similar concerns, if weapons and sensor emplacements could be taken out on a beam, the fighter complement was supposed to prevent it."

"We could use fighters and drones to compensate for weapons and sensors, particularly when the fighters aren't detached like they were in that action," Lar'shan was both assiduous and modest in his tone for the assessment, at times very unlike a fighter pilot. "However, that would hardly help with the thrusters."

"No, you're right, Major," Arterus found himself thinking, and thinking hard, for the sake of his commander and ship. _Innovating,_ as Grandmother had done. And eager to make a contribution. "But if the _Heermann_ were available she could lean in on the damaged side with tractors, we could establish links and use her to compensate in manoeuvring."

"If it could be completely autonomous, both computers could be configured to handle that," Violeta said, her eyes glinting. "In controls-theory terms they'd be one spaceship at that point. It has its own risks, of course."

"Speaking of," Fera'xero added, "I _think_ we could have generated a bubble of similar size to protect the Federal Navy by stretching the shields with emissions from the warp coils, while keeping our bow-on to the weapon. That would have considerably mitigated the damage. I can have simulations completed in five days, and we'll send them forward to operations. We've already sent the shield modifications forward, since they'll be useful against the Dominion."

"Excellent. Moving on to personnel operations…"

* * *

The next day in the morning, Zhen'var finally went to see Nah'dur. The woman had only just finished a surgery, gods knew how long she had been up, but she still seemed alert as she was going over some notes on her computer screen in her office. "Captain," she greeted, covering her mouth as she yawned widely. "I'm prepping for the next surgery, but I have a few minutes."

"I will not keep you long, then," Zhen'var replied, and gently put a hand on Nah'dur's shoulder. "How is it going?"

"Oh, it's fine. I haven't lost anyone yet. Six fatalities, all in starfighters destroyed outright. I've revived eight people recovered from space," she had this almost insouciant look as she gestured at her screen, pointing to nothing in particular, "with wounds serious enough to puncture spacesuits. Three of our's, three Federation, two Zeon. The longest was in a vacuum for fourteen hours."

Nah'dur closed her eyes, from tiredness, not any emotional trouble. She gripped a mug of _Khyla,_ a beverage comprised of a stimulant tea cut with meat broth, and carried on. "So, the worst I had on the _Huáscar_ with two decapitations-total-and what I did this morning bright and fresh after waking up was the second of those. The longest was exposed to vacuum for three hours and atmosphere to four. Also a total of twelve other flatline cases have been revived, mostly by the other surgeons. There's only two more of those which I'll do personally before I finish, and I don't really anticipate any problems with them. I've had six hours of sleep in the past sixty, but with stimulants that's been enough to keep my work up."

With her slightly-longer-than-bob auburn hair and intense expression, she was definitely calling to mind a certain woman Zhen'var had met before. Her look by that point was almost bored, though her voice inflected a certain degree of contempt as she continued into a rant, even if her words stayed polite.

"You know, Sister-Zhen, Alliance medicine has some real issues right now. Natural, expected ones. The ability of our Doctors and Surgeons to take up new skills is being taxed by the sheer quantity and scale of integration of twenty or so highly advanced medical technology schema, _all of which are different_ and _all of which_ have specific advantages. I've been using _all twenty,_ replicating lots of cybernetics for bypasses based on designs from Solaris, medigel and dermal generators, targeted chemical therapies for damaged tissue, protective plastics-so of course my surgical department has saved at least seventeen who would otherwise be dead-take note of that! Our fatality rate would be twenty-three if we were another ship. But instead, it's six. If brain tissue is heavily damaged in one area due to oxygen deprivation? Image it to record as much of the data, program it into cybernetics and put it in place of the damaged tissue. You should generally recover enough of the personality to allow some kind of recovery. The only problem I'm fighting right now is medical ethics boards, but if I look hard enough it's been approved by one _somewhere._ "

She waved airily. "Anyway, it's not really the fault of other Doctors, despite my feeling rather indignant about it. And that's because it's quite hard to properly integrate these different medical technology schema. So people are dying unnecessarily. There. That's my - what is the human military term?"

"Hot wash," Zhen'var answered, mildly dazed. Not like she hadn't expected this from Nah'dur, but it was still incredible to hear her talking, half-asleep, about casually running through so many different technologies and synthesizing them into specific medical strategies.

"Very well then. Hot Wash," Nah'dur repeated, shaking her head. "Odd term. At any rate. I will disseminate as widely as possible, this was my first major battle so it was my first attempt to put some of this to the test, but unless concerted action is taken at high levels to require this kind of inter-universal training in schema for all combat doctors in the service, more will die. It's as simple as that. Now, I have my plan," she had quietly gone back to multitasking on her computer, "and I would ask you to leave, so I may finish up and finally have some rest."

* * *

The next day, before they departed for drydock, a visitor came, quiet and composed. She beamed aboard after requesting to speak to Zhen'var personally. Arriving at her ready room, her eyes still hung with bags, the woman looked mature beyond her years after surviving the events of the past days. She, too, had fought at A Bao a Qu, and for a year before that as well.

Unlike the other Federation personnel, revelling in the end of the war, the peace, the capture of Kycilia Zabi, she had lost any opportunity for pleasure or even peace in the conflict. Artesia Som Deikun, better known to all of her friends and frankly to herself as Sayla de Mas, stepped quietly into her ready room, wearing civilian clothes.

"Good afternoon, Lady Artesia. What may I do for you?"

"Captain… Please, there's no need for a title," she answered after a moment, almost taken aback. "I wanted to talk to you about my future. Someone unbiased and willing to look at the situation as honestly as possible."

"Then please sit. Mint tea, I believe it was?" Zhen'var rose herself, to walk to the replicator and get herself a new mug of chai.

"Yes, please," Artesia answered, her eyes flickering with warmth.

The Dilgar woman handed her the mug, then moved back to her chair. "If you are asking this, you are implying you do not intend to stay with your brother, then, or that you do not wish to do so. Please, speak your mind."

"I love my brother immensely, but I have spent the year fighting against his comrades, against the nation of Zeon, even if it was for the sake of right, that is still something that cannot be undone. It would be easier for him if he did not have to explain me, and easier for me not to deal with the eyes and thoughts which come from having served in the Federation in the war against them, sometimes actively as a pilot," Artesia replied. She didn't sigh, but one could almost feel it in the air. "Nobody can un-do the past year, Captain."

"Nor should one have to. It sounds as if you are trying to find a _place_ in exile for some years, until passions cool and amity can be again found in this system. Is that so?" A stylus flicked between her hands, as Zhen'var pondered the point. "What do you _wish_ to do?"

"I want to be myself," Artesia shook her head. "Of course, I scarcely know who that is. Well, I was never given a chance to prove myself as a pilot on the _White Base._ I ended up serving as one, but… Yes, I suppose that's what I'm coming here for. I'd like to go with you, and see humanity in the stars in a dozen-dozen universes."

"Wonders and horrors alike… from what I have seen of you, I would sponsor your application to join our service as an officer, if you were not to take my path, from an associate state. Does that interest you, miss? Forgive me, I am attempting to determine _exactly_ what you wish. I will also require your service records from Captain Bright."

"Would you?" She grimaced. "I have occasionally been insubordinate. This war was complicated. On the other hand, you would find me quite incorruptible. But yes, I would like that… Though I am not sure my chance is great."

Zhen'var waved her hand arily. "You have not yet seen how we run our _Huáscar_. I will take you as a Midshipwoman if I must and train you on the ship, if you meet the standards of my Operations and Medical officers, as well as my Wing Leader. If you wish this, I will explore your options before we depart. Is this agreeable?"

"Yes, certainly!" She took a pull of her tea and grinned. "I've never minded _learning._ "

"Very well, then." She rose, and extended her hand. "Provisionally, welcome aboard. I shall alert the officers you need to see, and if their reports are favourable, you shall gather your possessions."

"Understood, Captain!" She leapt to her feet and took Zhen'var's hand.

"Midshipwoman de Mas, or Som Deikun?" She asked, squeezing firmly. "Or does that depend which one, if either of them sponsors you as a loaned officer, since I suppose then it will be Leftenant when you come back, anyway?" She had a small smile when she asked, some understanding of the vagaries of politics growing with every mission.

Artesia smiled wryly. "Many officers of rank, I am given to know, serve under partial pseudonyms. I will be known as Artesia, but let's see which last name makes sense. Ma'am."

"Of course. Welcome to the _Huáscar._ Let me get you your appointments." After the woman left, Zhen'var let herself give a small smile. _As between worlds as you are, I have a good feeling about this._

 **Tag**

At Gelmac station over Gersal, the _Huáscar_ finally came to rest for repairs. They had already created quite a stir, since during the scratch repairs at A Bao a Qu someone had welded a flagpole to the frame at PriFly and put a metal Peruvian naval ensign and a broom on it. A Stencil'd Zeon flag had been added to the hull claiming one _Golpe Estado_ to complete the effect _._

She was hooked up to umbilicals for the first time since departing drydock for her shakedown cruise. Three weeks of repair work and modifications of shakedown punchlist items were promised, done mostly by contractors and engineering staff. Leave was plentiful for everyone else. Even the Captain was reputedly taking a few days to travel to picturesque sights on Gersal with Colonel Fei'nur, or so the rumour went.

 _Heermann_ had it even better. With no damage and nothing else to do in the general fleet drawdown, 85% of the crew was approved for leave at once, and they'd rotate with the small caretaker crew. With everyone else gone, more or less, Abebech wandered down to one of the tiny, storage-locker sized emergency habitation compartments that were the only spare space on the _Heermann_ in event of deep-space rescues.

She cycled the overrides and the locks. "Kusko," the _Heermann_ 's commander addressed the woman inside. "Take these." She handed over a package from under one arm-civilian clothes and a set of identity documents. "The chit has access to a Solarian interuniversal bank account with enough money to book the travel, and the instructions on what to say when you get there. My advice is succinct: Buy a nice pair of gloves, and give my regards to Captain Rhee Sueng. She needs some crack pilots."

 _I don't know if I'm really supposed to be thankful at being given a line straight into another war,_ Kusko Al answered.

 _I don't care whether or not you are. But I wasn't interested in seeing you detained even just for a few months with the Gihren loyalists when you could so something worthwhile with the time or not. Consider it an alternative to prison if you like. But get the clothes on, and follow me onto the station. I can't have you here for forever. And it is, as plain as day, forty shillings on the drum._

* * *

The crew of the _Huáscar_ had enjoyed at least a week of leave for every single one of them. Gersal was certainly a lovely world but for the rowdier part of the crew it offered few in the way of venal pursuits. Most had promptly booked passage to somewhere Dorei and close-by. Daria had spent the week on the surface visiting Gersallian groups that promoted collaboration with her order.

Now they were all back together. All systems were nominal, a few shakedown cruise punchlist items had _finally_ been fixed, and the _Huáscar_ was (a bit more modestly, they hadn't been allowed to keep the stencil) 'haze gray and underway'. There had been a few crew transfers and a few replacements, but the number was very small this early into her first commission.

The events over Zeon had left Elia in a better mood. The holoprojector was even working when they showed up for the briefing. _That_ attracted some comment.

" _Woh,"_ Rick Dugan held his arms up in mock surprise. "The briefing's already up?"

"I don't think I've ever seen it already working when I came in the room before," Stasia answered. "This is some legit improvement."

Anna glared at them.

"Be nice, Anna got less leave than anyone else trying to make everything work. Now, sit down everyone, we are going on a mission we are actually _designed_ for this time."

The Chiefs ducked off to the side and back to sit. Most of the others had sorted out their seating positions by that point.

"The mission we were actually designed for? You mean deep space exploration and general purpose operations?" Nah'dur asked, having, almost as always, found, a seat next to Fei'nur.

"Well, it's certainly general purpose operations," Will answered, nodding to the Captain.

" _Avarra,_ the station ship in The Triangle region of S5T3 is rotating home for refit. We are to be the station ship until they return. Border patrol, in the most classic star-fleet sense of the term."

"Captain," Elia nodded in acknowledgment, highlighting the area of space. "The Triangle is a complicated astropolitical region comprising one hundred and twenty M-class planets of consequence. It is 'the triangle' between the Klingon and Rihannsu Empires and the UFP. The Orion States are also a major presence as their territory, lying between Klingon and Federation space, includes the right to traverse the Klingon-Federation Neutral Zone, which functionally serves as a trade corridor for them to reach the Triangle. Piracy was substantially reduced after the Klingon-Federation alliance because of joint patrols across the Neutral Zone, but is still present in the Triangle."

She started to highlight areas of space. "One of the peculiarities is that, by treaty, the Triangle is not part of the space of any one of the three Powers, however they do have member colonies in the Triangle. This means that unlike in other parts of the galaxy where say a Federation ship crossing the notional border in space would be a treaty violation, a Federation ship can legally enter a Klingon system in the Triangle-it's more like international waters back home, national territory only extends to phaser's shot from an orbital satellite, no further."

"The Planet Geisling was a human colony, independent of the UFP, which was conquered and ruled by the Rihannsu for several decades in the last century. After a successful revolt, they maintained their independence for more than a century for a variety of reasons, and have become the first and so far only planet in the Triangle to join the Alliance; they have a population of one billion, twenty million, which is just above the old informal cut-off for Alliance membership. About twenty-two percent of the population is Rihannsu, and they were oppressed for decades, but a peaceful civil rights movement granted them full citizenship forty years ago. As our only planet in the region, they are our fleet base for the region, a single Class IX orbital garrison with the 92nd Attack Squadron and a wing of fighters; a second wing is on the planetary surface. Hadalib V has petitioned for membership status, but only has a population of a hundred million so is part of the population number debate, like we are," she added, a glance around the table at the other Dilgar officers-which she was, despite being human, and did not forget.

"So, pretty much a wild frontier," Violeta remarked.

"Yes, that's accurate," Elia nodded. "The largest native government is informally called Baker's Dozen, which has a hereditary presidency but is broadly free. The biggest trouble-zones are the Orion worlds, where slavery is commonplace, and the Imperial Klingon States, best described for those of you familiar with 21st century as Enver Hoxha's Albania during the paranoid Sino-Soviet split days; it's a hermit Kingdom of failed contenders for power in the Klingon Empire. Almost every single planet has its own force of armed starships, but they're mostly ghastly old designs from the big three or the Orions."

"Best not to under-estimate canny sorts used to scraping what-ever they can together. The Union shows that you can come up with some _very_ interesting ideas when you are backed into a corner." Zhen'var softly interjected.

"You're certainly right, Captain," Elia dipped her head. "Well, there's a _lot_ more information with a full briefing packet, but in summary our job is to show the flag and respond to pirate attacks and reports of slaving activities. And of course to defend both our Member and our Prospective Member, but there haven't been any threats against either. We'll be here for at least a month, so it will be a good chance to settle into operating routines and I'll be working from the Operations perspective to make sure that we take advantage of the opportunity."

Zhen'var gave her a _look_. _Divine, Elia, did you have to curse it by saying that?_

 _Bloody wars and sickly seasons, Captain,_ Elia promptly teased back.

 _Hrmph._ "We will be arriving in seventy-two hours, ensure ship and crew are ready, open door policy from me until then for any initiatives we may come up with."

After the usual departures, Arterus lingered. In meetings, that kind of awkward stand off to the side as other people were talking and leaving inevitably meant the individual doing it intended to have a sidebar with the ranking officer or the presenter, and the way that Elia confidently left when she would have known the intent left little doubt the ship's Navigator intended to speak with his Captain.

She waited until the rest had departed, before regarding the man. "Lieutenant Arterus? Sit, you clearly have something on your mind."

"Elements, Captain, I'd just as soon stand," he answered, clearly uncomfortable, it rippled in his musculature and reflected in the dark eyes of that olive face. Like many high-class Rihannsu he lacked the forehead ridge of the lower-caste which included those many of those power in the post-Imperial regime, and so superficially looked Vulcan. But a Vulcan would never express what his face did now.

"Captain, my cousin, she's as close to me as the wind, is on Terramka in one of the Rihannsu agricultural settlements there. The government's at least somewhat friendly with the Alliance. I was wondering if I could lead a little group to check up on her. She expressed some concerns in her last letter that the Tal Shiar might have become aware of where she was."

"You may ask for volunteers, Lieutenant. I will shape our course for Altharra once I confirm our orders. If you choose to go on a small shore leave while there, I cannot disapprove, of course."

A smile twitched onto the Lieutenant's face. "As strange as it is here, Captain, I actually believe I won't have any trouble finding those. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Lieutenant. Good luck - I hope her concerns shall prove to be misplaced."


	18. Episode 4 Intro and Act 1

_**Introduction**_

Sometimes, life on the _Huáscar_ actually was quiet. If one discounted the drills, and then the additional drills, and then the drills that followed those. But it at least had some kind of _routine,_ and right now, in transit after leaving drydock, that was true enough, leaving the usual small knot of officers that had begun to gather at the ship's civilian café. "It still kind of upsets me that she won't let anyone use the holodecks for, well, anything," Violeta grumbled softly, continuing the conversation.

"Except training, and then more and more training," Anna answered, stirring her coffee. They were sitting by the windows in Café Varna, the stars streaking in front of them.

Already someone had dared remark on the similarity of the café's name to the name of the _Captain's clan,_ which had gotten both a dressing down for impoliteness and borderline insubordination, and Alexandra's epic rage as the woman had ranted about how Varna was a glorious and legendary Bulgarian city of seaside pleasure and relaxation. Thinking about Alexandra saying 'pleasure and relaxation' made Violeta giggle again, even though she felt like a bad person for doing it.

"Yeah, about that," Violeta said as she shook her head. "I get the point. But the crew needs to unwind _together,_ not just wander off on shore leave and get pasted at dive bars. And Gersal doesn't exactly even have many of those."

Anna rubbed her face. "You know, there's a part of me that still gibbers that holodecks are magic dream boxes, Violeta. Maybe that has something to do with the Captain's regulations, but I really get the sense that she thinks, sincerely, that they're just unfair in their allocation of resources. She's a straight shooter like that, you know."

"Where'd you pick _that_ one up?" Violeta asked, changing the subject. She didn't want to admit she was just upset because she couldn't continue her RPG. She thought she had other, valid points that were concerning, too. But a part of her was telling herself she was upset because she couldn't continue her RPG.

"Oh, Chief Dugan, of course. He's very quotable."

"That guy's something else," Violeta laughed. "You wouldn't think him the type, honestly, to do what he did for the Captain."

"He has a _really_ intense sense of right and wrong at the level of a common man's fairness," Anna countered. "It's closeness to others which makes genocide possible, the cycle of hatred. The distance of humans and Dilgar meant he just felt they weren't getting a fair shake, and that was worth fighting over."

"It's funny that you and so many people on this ship say that," Violeta drank her own tea, her face twisting up in an expression of thought. "The common wisdom is that closeness makes peoples understand and respect each other more."

"A maudlin sentiment of those who don't know conflict, respectfully; ask a Russian if they like a Pole, or a German. But the French love us, in more than one universe too."

"That's kind of sad. Well," Violeta cut off abruptly as a shadow crossed her.

"Commander, Lieutenant, forgive me," Arterus began, holding a cup of his own as he stepped over.

"Oh, no, no, take a seat, we're just discussing utterly irrelevant things," Violeta waved her hand insistently. "That's that terribly strong Rihannsu coffee you've got, isn't it?"

"No, Alexandra convinced me to try the strongest of her's. It's… Tolerable," he chuckled as he sat. But his own look was pensive. "Ladies, I admit I have an unusual question. I'm worried about my cousin and I wanted to go check up on her."

"There's nothing unusual about that," Anna answered. She knew. Her own efforts to find her family had quietly consumed most of her leaves in which she had been able to return to her home universe, even though the chance was steadily fading that they had survived. "But why's that related to the question?"

"She may be in danger, and the Captain granted me both leave and permission to take along any volunteers that I wanted to."

"Ooh, I see," Anna finished her mug with a swig. "Danger? Ask Colonel Fei'nur."

"Do you really think…?"

"It's worth a shot," Violeta agreed.

"I suppose I must, then, if y-" He was cut off by a truly incredible sound. For the first time, Zhen'var had had Chief Dugan around when an alert was being called.

A bosun's whistle was a particular kind of horrifying _intense_ human invention which sent an electric shock down the spine. They all looked at each other in surprise. Then the alarms sounded, the klaxon blaring from stem to stern.

" _Condition Red, Condition Red, General Quarters! Set MC ZEBRA throughout the ship! All Hands To Your Battle Stations!_ "

"...I thought this was supposed to be a quiet border patrol," Violeta muttered. They were all already at a dead run, Anna peeling off for main engineering. There was nothing else to be done, but run and hope they got to their stations in time. Something, somewhere, had gone wrong and they were under threat. _So much for a peace..._

 _ **Undiscovered Frontier: Origins**_

 _ **Season 1 Episode 4**_

 _ **"**_ _ **The Border Patrol"**_

 **Act 1**

It was unusual for an alert in that Abebech was on the bridge with the Captain, talking urgently. Will was below in secondary control, and Elia was frowning over at her Operations console. Then she looked up. "We've gotten the entire message, Captain, Commander."

Abebech turned toward her, standing close to Zhen'var.

Elia bit her lip. "It's a valid War Order, Captain. Not a drill. Nothing else."

The Dilgar woman in the command chair nodded. "To my safe, Commander Imra, to review the IOP?" Her voice was calm and level, but her demi-claws were out and scraping along the stone facings of her armrests.

"Yes, certainly," Abebech replied, and came to attention, waiting for Zhen'var to pass her heading to the Ready Room. "Commander Saumarez, direct any further communications to the Captain's Ready Room. We can two-factor there ourselves."

"Understood, Commander," Elia answered, rising and stepping toward the centre of the bridge.

Zhen'var strode with urgency in her steps, to her ready room just off the bridge, and the small vault there that held the classified items that could not be trusted to the central computer, as she leaned in for the various scans meant to ensure that it was her, and that she was not under duress.

"I do not wish to contemplate a great deal what would have caused an Alliance War Order to be issued, Imra."

"This procedure would only be declared for a serious event deep in the core territories of the Alliance," Abebech replied. She gestured to the replicator as Zhen'var went for the safe. "Anything for you, Captain?"

"My usual. This implies one or more of the core worlds has been attacked, or are under threat." She swung the heavy door open, and took out a single heavy red binder, laying it down on her desk, flicking to one of the marked dividers.

Abebech came over with the cups and watched her open the binder to the correct page. It was the only piece of paper documentation on the entire ship.

The directive was also plain and simple for their situation: _Border Forces and Station Ships are to maintain an Active Combat and Patrol Posture to defend Alliance Territorial Integrity until Further Notice._

"I must confess, that was less drastic than I had expected…" She reached to her intra-ship comms array; "Commander Saumarez? _Assume Wartime Cruising-Readiness Posture Echo._ "

"Aye, Captain. Schedule dawn General Quarters?" Elia asked promptly, referring to the old tradition in wartime cruising situations which would be applicable at scheduled ship's 'dawn'.

"That is correct. We have received War Orders, get us underway for Geisling, earliest possible arrival. Prepare for a meeting of the ship's staff that can be spared, we need to defend two points at once, possibly more."

"Understood, Captain. Standing down to Condition Yellow and relaxing to modified ZEBRA, staff meeting in ten minutes in Conference Suite One," the conference suite immediately below the bridge precisely for these kinds of staff meetings.

Abebech drank her coffee, still standing. "Less than three months after the war with the Reich ended. Less than three months of peace…"

"The Alliance is a grand dream that has many enemies. It seems another has moved against it." Carefully placing the binder back and re-securing everything, Zhen'var finally took a sip from her chai. "Come on, let us get down to the meeting."

The crew was much more serious as the senior officers were drawn into the meeting than they had been in the heyday of having returned triumphant from A Bao a Qu.

"Good afternoon, everyone." Zhen'var barely spared a glance around the room, her expression grim. "Details are scarce to non-existent as to why, but command has invoked the Alliance Integrated Operations War Plan. I do not have details to what has occurred, but I must assume a major world has been struck. Our role is to, quote, _'maintain an Active Combat and Patrol Posture to defend Alliance Territorial Integrity until Further Notice.'_ Are there any questions?"

"Well, that's pretty straightforward," Lar'shan said after a moment. "We really have no idea what's going on?"

"No," Abebech answered for the senior staff. "Major, every comm frequency to Portland will be jammed with communications as they coordinate the response. They simply don't have the time or capacity to devote an entire transmission to a single ship in a low-priority sector. And the most help we can give our commanders at this point is to leave them alone."

Remembering what happened on their shakedown cruise, Will looked at Fera'xero. "Have you been monitoring the holonews broadcasts again? Anything there?"

Stasia rubbed her eyes and reached for her coffee. Her hair was wet, and the damp was starting to soak through her uniform in patches, having been in the middle of taking a shower when they called General Quarters. "They did always say the military usually found out about trouble by watching CNN, back home."

"Unfortunately, Commander, Chief, there is only one relevant piece of news. The Gersallian Cooperative Information Service is not broadcasting, and neither is the Voice of Liberty. The other news broadcasts report an information lockdown with more news coming soon from Portland. Their feeds are just showing a rainy cityscape in the Capital, nothing more."

"Gersal, and probably other points, including New Liberty, have been attacked." Zhen'var stirred from the head of the table. "It is the common factor between the points of information. Higher authorities are trying to coordinate a response. What is relevant for us is _whom_ did so, and what we can do to assist while _here_."

"We only left there three days ago," Violeta said quietly, stunned. Gersal was _the_ linchpin of the Alliance.

"If we had been in dock, we may well have been destroyed without a chance to defend ourselves. We were fortunate, but there is nothing else that makes sense. Someone with an intra-universal drive has declared war upon the Alliance."

"It _could_ have been internal to that universe, the Coserian Emperor for example," Anna objected.

"While it may be possible, are any of them that _suicidal_ to risk it? The Alliance will respond with overwhelming force, the Reich War demonstrated our resolve even when it was not _our planets_ under attack."

"It might be another interuniversal power," Abebech finally said, having hesitated a while. Her tightly pulled back hair leaned over her right shoulder. "I certainly wouldn't rule it out, Commander Poniatowska."

Anna sucked in her breath. "Very well. We'll be to our destination in another," she checked her omnitool, "forty-three minutes. Any instructions until then, Captain?"

"Pass the word to your Chiefs, let them filter it to the crew. They should know just what is at stake. I shall provide information to the ship data-net as it is received. I do not _expect_ a combat situation on arrival, but we _will_ reach our station and prepare to defend it."

"You heard the Captain," Elia added. "For further notice we are on Readiness Posture Echo, Wartime cruising, including Dawn General Quarters with ship time synchronised to Portland time. That means we'll call the next alert at 0628 Zulu-in seven hours and fourteen minutes."

"You are all dismissed to your stations, thank you." Zhen'var was silent after giving them their dismissal.

"I'll be reporting to the _Heermann_ since she's on Alert Five," Abebech offered before heading out.

"And I to the wing; one squadron on Alert Five, one on Alert Ten, the rest at twenty minutes," Lar'shan added.

The Captain acknowledged their reports, and would sit there until the last left, before rising to her feet to return to the bridge. _Gersal… Divine, but what comes next?_

Elia had been waiting outside, heading to the same destination. When Zhen'var arrived, she fell in with her. "Not going to try to take a nap, Captain?"

"How could I hope to, Commander, when things are so uncertain? It would be nothing more than staring into the viewscreen in my ready room, running scenarios through my sleepless mind."

"Some soldiers get that trait, though, the ability to turn in 'all standing' or 'take a caulk' on the deck, in navy terms," Elia grinned wryly. "I bet Rick's one. I'm not, of course."

"Of _course_ the Chief is. He always seems _annoyingly_ bright in the morning, but I admit never having caught him without his coffee."

"This is a problem I've thought of before," Elia continued, her hands folded behind her back as they rose upwards in the turbolift. "There are so many big foreign powers and we have spread through so many universes. Without it being unusual, we could still find ourselves in war after war after war. What will that do to the Alliance, I wonder?" Her tired dark eyes looked hard into the wall of the turbolift, as if she could see beyond it. Her expression was not negative. She could see the dangers, but she also wanted some of them.

"Force it to reform or break. We will see which, but either way, we will do our _duty_ , Battle Expert." Sometimes, her Captain showed flashes of a soul of sharp-edged iron which lurked behind normally calm eyes.

"A little like we're in the Wars of the French Revolution." She paused, and grinned wryly. "As the French. Well, then. You know, Captain, with all respect to what I expect your own position is, there are some people out there who need liberating. So - _Bon Chance, Mon Capitaine?_ "

Zhen'var bared her teeth when she returned the grin. " _Oui."_ Together, side by side, Captain and Commander, Telepath and Dilgar, they strode out onto the bridge of their ship, coiled at Condition Two-Condition Yellow-and straining hard. For all the danger and uncertainty of the hour, it was thrilling.

* * *

They arrived at Geisling on schedule, dropping out of warp and into orbit. The Attacker squadron was waiting for them, with the fleet interrogatories having already flown back and forth as they approached. Zhen'var was the ranking officer, since the Station Commodore was a Captain of lower seniority. She created a conference link on the main bridge and started issuing directives to the Wing Commanders and Attacker Captains.

"One of the local squadron shall be at General Quarters at all times for further notice," she ordered. "Maintain a full squadron CAP from each wing, including our's, for three squadrons active with three early warning runabouts for each. Another three squadrons on Ready Five, and another three on Ready Ten as well as one of our bomber squadrons at each posture as well. All other forces to maintain Condition Yellow until further notice with ships at modified ZEBRA. Wing Commanders, Attacker ForceCom, establish patrol routines as you best see fit. _Heermann_ may remain at MC Yoke while docked but not more than ten percent of the crew to be allowed on _Huáscar_ at any time with all sleeping aboard; make sure either yourself or Commander Goodenough is aboard at all times, Commander Imra."

The acknowledgements chorused. Abebech allowed a tight, grim smile after the others had closed off their lines. "Of course, Captain. Commander Goodenough will have the first watch."

Then Abebech's image disappeared, too. "Captain, the Geisling Defence Ministry is contacting us," Elia informed her. "They seem pretty excited."

"Rather not surprised to hear that," Zhen'var shook her head wryly. "On screen."

A Northern European Caucasian woman with sandy brown hair and sharp features blinked onto the screen. She was a severe looking woman with her hair going to midlength and not done up, and a lean face, who launched straight into the description. "Captain Zhen'var? I'm Anna Roschau, the Defence Minister of Geisling. To summarise what we know about the situation, a War Warning went out, and there are reports of multiple different attacks in different universes… Which has everyone pretty damn worried. We could be attacked at any moment. We've already got our old _Chandley_ -class frigates and _Genser_ -class escorts on outer patrol, but they're all seventy years old and can't do much. The Birds of Prey are still taking on their crews."

Zhen'var glanced down to her display. They were all non-upgraded, early-model Federation ships of designs that the UFP had completely decommissioned. Clearly they predated the point where anti-military sentiment had led to the Federation completely banning foreign military sales, and the ships had been purchased at a fire-sale, and reality had required them to remain in service since. The eight Klingon Birds of Prey the planetary government also owned were newer, since the Klingons saw humans as allies in the past decade and unlike the UFP didn't care about proliferation. They were also reserve ships with crews who might as well be a militia, and were still on the ground.

"Please get the Birds of Prey to full readiness as soon as possible, Ma'am," Zhen'var answered very deliberately. "I agree with your assessment that we have been attacked in multiple universes at once. Can we prepone the coordination meeting scheduled for tomorrow to sometime in the next hour?"

Roschau looked at her for a moment, blinking, and then figured out the meaning of the unfamiliar word. "Isn't it the middle of the night for you?"

"I'm hardly going to sleep until our defensive arrangements are secure, Ma'am," Zhen'var answered with a shrug.

"We'll get the briefings ready," Roschau answered. "One hour precisely, we can do that."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Zhen'var watched the screen go silent, and then tapped the intercom to the _Heermann._ "Commander Imra, please come aboard the _Huáscar_ after all. Elia, Fei'nur and I will be going to the surface for a briefing with the local government and I want you available to take overall command in the event we are taken under attack while I am on the surface. Will shall have the conn, but I want you in overall command of _Huáscar_ 's operational assets. You would report to Captain Nansen, of course," she referred to the Station Commodore.

"Understood, Captain."

As the bridge for a brief moment went silent, Zhen'var shook her head. In another two days it was going to be her fortieth birthday and all she wanted for it was some kind of _data_ on the situation.

* * *

Nah'dur was dealing with several interesting challenges in her spare time. The first of these was to sort out genophage details with Wrex. Well, Wrex could follow along to her status reports, but it wasn't that he was a collaborator. Rather than try to immediately reverse what the Salarians had done, her first objective had been a simple change to promote regenerative fertility in Krogan females. Most females actually continued to produce new eggs, at least at a very low rate, during adulthood.

Nah'dur took the basic mechanism of propagation of the genophage (which had been nifty even if the rest of the work was slapdash and incompetent in her opinion) and had added a few factors to it which would drive increased regeneration. Since Krogan used a quantity-based reproduction schema _anyway,_ next she promoted the release of more eggs during fertility events. Step one in overcoming severe attrition, if you don't have another option, was to bring even more embryos into play. It was, in essence, reproductive materialschlacht.

She'd already designed an artificial womb, essentially, optimized for Krogan embryos which would be able to counter some of the neurochemical stressors which caused the high stillbirth rate and improve outcomes over traditional gestation. It was expensive, but it was a short term help, and there were plenty of Krogan with money, so she shot the design specifications off to Solaris where a company was now offering them to Krogan with enough money to pay, and then sent another copy to Wrex so he could look for cheaper suppliers. Now she just needed to finish the tests on the first round treatment and send it off Wrex. It might increase the successful pregnancy rate by 40%, which wasn't enough but was close to enough, so it was a start which would staunch the demographic bleeding.

Her hands flew up to her mouth in an instinctive Dilgar gesture to cover her face as she yawned hugely. Broad, blue, feline eyes traced from side to side a bit suspiciously. Nah'dur hated admitting to those outside of her family she got sleepy. Her mother had been impervious to sleep, both of them actually. The number of alerts was getting to everyone, though. She looked down to her cup and frowned. She hadn't yet found any coffee that she liked, except for one Marine officer who had given her this stuff from her homeland of _Rhode Island and Providence Plantations_ (humans loved long names) called Coffeemilk. That had been tolerable, but it was served cold, and she wanted something hot. Her latest attempt was no more successful and she gave up drinking it and wandered over to the replicator to get a proper Dilgar stimulant.

As she came back to her workstation, the chime on her office door pealed. Nah'dur blanked the screen to protect the data on the Genophage treatments. "Come in, please."

The door opened. It was Commander Imra. "Surgeon-Commander, while I was aboard under the Captain's orders, I decided to get my ninety day physical out of the way." Like all Alliance officers, she was subjected to endless encouragements to get regular monthly checkups, but Abebech always stuck with the bare minimum ninety-day physical.

"Oh yes, I can do that," Nah'dur answered. "The programme I'm running shouldn't finish processing for another thirty minutes or so… Nothing's changed, I take it?" She added, a bit lamely. Abebech was an enigma wrapped in a mystery cloaked in a riddle for her, or whatever that saying was; she couldn't remember the order and didn't really care. What more came to mind was an old Dilgar saying, not some pastiche of a human one, but really old: _Every Predator also a Prey,_ and sometimes it was very appropriate, as Abebech seemed more of a predator than she was.

"Come on." She wandered out to one of the bio-beds, regarding Abebech thoughtfully. People from S0T5 could be extremely unusual. Abebech was obviously a geneform, even though unlike most individuals on say Solaris, she looked superficially completely human.

As Abebech had requested, Nah'dur entered overrides that killed all the sensors and recording devices, activated a privacy lock on that sector of sickbay, and reached for a stethoscope. The woman pulled off her outer-coat and then very quietly removed her gloves-her hands were flawless, normal, but pale for Abebech's natural skin-tone-and then reached up and took off her glasses. Those unsettling red eyes she had were very much the one Solarian geneform feature she did have, but unlike Solarians she hid, rather than flaunted, her difference.

"I don't know what you did before you found me," Nah'dur muttered softly. "To be honest, I'm not really sure how you got past the onboarding physical without a lot of questions being asked."

"In the early days, the Alliance took a lot of people without many questions asked," Abebech replied, almost as insouciant as Nah'dur usually was. "Satisfied?"

Nah'dur recorded the usual things, like the pulse of twenty beats per minute and the blood pressure of 90 over 60 which should mean that Abebech was unconscious and near death. Then she nodded and reached for the vial for the blood sample. "Just the usual disease screening."

"Do you really need to again?"

"Absolutely. We have our agreement." _I want more samples._ "I'll gundeck the official results in exchange for regular tracking to make sure you're actually healthy according to the genemods that you've had."

"Very well, Surgeon-Commander, but I rather think you may just like sampling."

Nah'dur rolled her neck. "Oh, it's all in the name of scientific inquiry," she said as the needle went in. Abebech flinched slightly, though her facial expression was always strange, rather than pained. Once she'd drawn the sample, Nah'dur stepped away.

Abebech put her uniform blouse back on and then her gloves, but left the glasses off as Nah'dur next tested her eyes. As usual she aced the visual acuity in all lighting conditions, and scored better than an Alakin on the audio tests…

"All right, go ahead and get on the treadmill," Nah'dur said boredly as she recorded everything and checked it against her past physical on Abebech. Abebech pulled her pants off and put on a pair of workout shorts she'd brought and obligingly swung herself over to it, almost amused.

For this one, Nah'dur couldn't help but watch in pained envy and fascination at the motion of human legs. She envied them so much. They just pumped, and pumped. Abebech didn't even break a sweat. Nah'dur couldn't bring herself to actually tell the woman to stop; she just loved the fascinating, wicked biological perfection of a creation which had come about being a predator in an odd way, the oddest of ways perhaps: not ambush, gods no, _exhaustion_ predation, the one thing which made humans unique rather than the utterly average that they were in almost every other respect. Nah'dur had long already concluded, before contact with the Alliance, even, that the human adaptation for exhaustion predation was the main reason that humans were uniquely dangerous.

Abebech's heartbeat made sense in the context of a geneform that had been optimized for long distance running. Naturally, Nah'dur loved watching her run. She could, in her mind, strip away the layers of flesh and fat, and imagine the muscles coiling and uncoiling, the tendons and nerves responding, the padding of the joints in the bones transmitting force through the continuous rhythm of impulsive motion…

Nah'dur could run faster than Abebech, for about the first five minutes. She was not in as good of shape as she should be, so she'd time out and collapse soon after that. Abebech could do this for _hours._ Any properly trained human could, but Nah'dur suspected, based on her current working hypothesis of Abebech's genetic modifications, that she could do it for twelve or fifteen hours. Running _continuously_ for that long was incredible.

But Nah'dur knew someone else who could do it for almost as long. In her imagination, Fei'nur's legs slowly began to substitute for Abebech's as she was quietly entranced by the rhythm of the running.

The reverie was broken by the legs slowing down. "I do rather believe that's enough data," Abebech said with a mildly disapproving tone.

" _You could run down one of your equines,"_ Nah'dur said, her eyes jerking up.

"How do you think humans tamed them?" Abebech shot back as she wandered over to the exam table and put her uniform pants back on.

"Hmf! I suppose you are quite right. Very well then, you're fit for duty. Of course. I'll put the values you asked in the latest report, again."

" _Thank you,_ Surgeon-Commander!"

"Oh, you're welcome," Nah'dur said, wandering back into her office. She'd compare baselines on Abebech again later, she wanted to see if the simulation had finished…

* * *

Zhen'var, Elia and Fei'nur materialised in the courtyard of the small and tidy Defence Ministry that Geisling maintained. It was adorned with statues celebrating the successful revolt which had driven the Rihannsu off the world, frequently invoking the militaristic style of Old Earth in the 19th century, especially the Romantic period. That was common enough for the history of a world which had been written in blood.

A small honour guard of local troops assembled, and an aide approached. "Captain Zhen'var, _Huáscar_ officers, I am Major Deborah Kielsen," she introduced herself, "Aide-de-Camp to the Minister for Defence."

"Major, a pleasure." Zhen'var nodded her head sharply in greeting. "Commander Elia Saumarez, my Operations officer, and Colonel Fei'nur, head of my ground and Security forces."

"A pleasure to meet you all," she greeted them in turn. "Welcome to Geisling, they call us the Swiss of the Triangle for a reason." There was a grin on her lips as she turned toward the entry-foyer of the building. Security interfaced with the omnitool of each of the three Alliance officers as they entered-Major Kielsen had an old-style scancard-and prompted a demand for their two-factor passcode for the security chip inside of the omnitool.

Glancing to the other two, Zhen'var tapped hers in, watching her fellow officers do the same, as Fei'nur glanced about in real approval. This was the _right_ level of security for a colony.

"The Birds of Prey are standing up, they're on three hours notice, which is enough time to have them up if Romulan Warbirds are detected leaving Romulan space," she explained as she led through multiple floors and up to the top of the building and the airy conference dome set back from the sides for security. "Another ninety minutes and we'll have them up."

"Good timing, for a reserve fleet. I do not _think_ an attack from that direction is imminent, unless they see an advantage to be seized."

"The Praetor loves the Main Chance," Kielsen answered, and then came to attention as she stopped at the bottom of the steps into the conference doom. "Generalleutnant Robert Nader, Vizadmiral Frederick Rieslich."

Both of them were aging men, but Nader had brown color to his skin-probably Arabic-in contrast with the Admiral who was probably as German as the ranks.

"Captain Zhen'var, welcome. You're a welcome sight after they pulled our last station ship and then this alert went down," Rieslich offered. "Please, take some seats, all of you. We'll have some light refreshments coming up in a moment, too."

"Thank you, Vizadmiral." The Dilgar woman glanced about, taking the measure of those around her - this was certainly one of the more _militaristic_ Alliance members.

""It's not a problem," he answered as the food was brought out, as well as coffee and tea. There was salmon and some chicken kebabs.

"The original colonists were from Bavaria?" Elia asked.

"You know about our namesake village in Regensburg? How brilliant, Commander," Nader smiled. "Yes, in the majority. They established a reputation for themselves as excellent gem-cutters and jewelers in the early settlement days, carrying on some lost traditions from Earth. It's said the Romulans spared our ancestors because they could not bear to destroy that which created such beauty. Well," he chuckled, "we taught them the error of their ways."

Zhen'var only nodded to that, not sharing the chuckle. Such things tended to make conquerors _harsher_ if they ever came back. It was her responsibility on station to ensure that did _not_ happen.

Rieslich brought up a holo-projection. It spent a solid minute wavering as the Major leaned in to run a diagnostic cycle on the projector before it finally settled down.

"Are your's any more reliable, perchance?" General Nader asked.

"It was a critical element of our recent yard period, shall we say?" The Captain replied with a wry tone to her voice.

"I have this Klingon civilian model in my home and _that_ always starts right up and works. Of course the resolution is terrible," Rieslich grumbled. "At any rate. You can see there that we've been tracking an uptick in Romulan ship transits inside the Triangle. So we actually _are_ concerned about opportunism now. We were concerned enough to plan a dedicated briefing on this _before_ the WARNORD went out."

"Go ahead with the briefing. We have some reports of possible Tal Shiar activity on Terramka we were planning to investigate - I still intend to do once it is safe to resume our patrol circuit."

"...Several of the vessel tracks we've recorded could actually be heading to or from Terramka, actually," Rieslich said, now interested. He started to run through the track lists, as well as intelligence estimates of the vessels, mostly older, second-line Romulan ships.

Zhen'var _frowned_ to that. "Then I shall need to intend to make it the first priority after the war alert is canceled… unless there is a ship I can _quietly_ send a team upon?"

"We've got a few heavily armed and shielded freighters we can use for covert ops," General Nader replied. "But they'd also be useful enough in a pinch if we came under direct attack. I suppose one of the Peregrines wouldn't attach much notice, but…"

"I don't really feel comfortable reducing our defensive strength until we at least have a communique from Portland," Rieslich agreed.

Major Kielsen had stepped over to a terminal, and now she turned back to face the table. "Sirs, the answers to our concerns may be at hand. We're receiving a priority broadcast from Portland."

"Finally," Nader sighed, reaching for his coffee. "Put it on, Major."

Zhen'var took her tea with an rigid grip, expression going flat. This was not likely to bode _well_.

The image resolved into a woman in an Admiral's uniform who looked tired. Zhen'var recognised her, Admiral Dana Envers, COMNAVRESFOR. The fact that the commander of the Reserve Force had had some of the briefing duties parceled out to her showed how serious the situation was. In retrospect it made sense, though, since she was probably briefing like fifty planetary defence force commands simultaneously.

"Gentlebeings, this is Admiral Envers acting for the National Militaries Liason. Approximately two hours ago a major Cylon force attacked Gersal with total surprise. The first indications suggest it was a 'signature' terrorist attack aimed at the Great Temple of the Order, though substantial damage was also done to orbital infrastructure and casualties in the Gersallian and Alliance military forces were taken."

"Simultaneously, a large force of SS starships attacked New Liberty with overwhelming strength. They destroyed the defending vessels and conducted a terror bombardment and several raids against what we believe are intelligence assets. They then retreated using interuniversal drive. The intelligence conclusion is unmistakable: The destruction of the throne-world of the SS was just cover for a retreat to secret installations at which they perfected test copies of the IU Drive we recovered from _Welthauptstadt Germania,_ corrected the observed deficiencies, and now have begun a terrorist campaign using their remaining fleet, which may number in the hundreds of ships."

"The timing of the two events is not a coincidence. It is possible the Cylons skipped into another universe and then returned to launch their attack on Gersal, since little else would explain their ability to bypass the Gersallian outer frontier sensor networks. It is clear that both attacks were precisely coordinated, and in combination with strong circumstantial evidence from the Battle of _Welthauptstadt Germania,_ it is clear that the Cylons and the Schutzstaeffel are operating in Alliance with each other to pursue common aims against our government."

"At this time, every planetary defence force in the Alliance needs to be ready and on alert for surprise attacks by overwhelming concentration of SS and-or Cylon starships, and we may expect the attacks to cease only when logistics force them to stop for refuel and resupply. Whether they have already exhausted those stores or if they could make another twenty attacks is unknown. We are reactivating major reserve fleet elements and sending them as reserve fleets to all major member worlds in the anticipation of creating rapid response fleets which can minimise the damage and catch them. This defensive strategy will persist until analysis of their attack patterns gives us evidence of the universe they are presently operating from, at which point we will bring together scratch assault fleets from those same rapid response forces to destroy their infrastructure and force a halt to attacks. That is all. God Preserve the Alliance."

The message blinked out. The declaration of overt religiosity at the end showed the level of tension in the ranking elements of the government. Admiral Rieslich looked at his Army counterpart and then sank back quietly into his chair, saying nothing for a moment.

Zhen'var quietly took out her communicator and spoke in a completely flat tone. " _Grau_ to _Ray-Ban_. Priority Override. _Ray-Ban_ , alert as follows: Hostile IU-drive equipped raiding forces of Cylon and Schutzstaffel vessels _operating freely and in in overwhelming localized strength within Alliance space and conducting surprise attacks on a planetary scale_. Gersal _and_ New Liberty badly struck in precision attacks. Set REDCON accordingly. Let the crew know in a controlled manner."

"Grau, I confirm the situation and am taking measures," Abebech's voice echoed back, completely confident. "Complete your coordination preparations. We are standing-to appropriate readiness."

"Thank you. Grau, out." Zhen'var looked up again with that same expression of steel in her eyes, as the Marine Colonel barely hid how tense she was, and how uncomfortable how _she_ was to be on a planet after that alert. "It seems we face a larger challenge than we expected, and will need to fulfill our station-ship duties with what-ever is left after defending _this_ world. As an outpost in an isolated universe, we _are_ a tempting target - Commander Saumarez, your views?"

"We'd be outnumbered ten to one even with every ship on hand, in the worst case, from the local forces and our own naval detachment," Elia answered. "I think we need to investigate the Rihannsu manoeuvres in the Triangle despite this threat. Is there any way we can reinforce the local defences?"

"We have some reasonably good relations with nearby Klingon houses, we could ask for House ships to help defend us," Admiral Rieslich said. "They would expect a favour from the Alliance or from Geisling later on, of course, but many of them were angry at being pulled off the line with the Reich when relations between the Empire and the Alliance went south with Gowron's adventuring against the Cardassians, so we might be able to lean on that."

"We will not be getting reinforcements, Admiral. We are all you can expect from the Fleet." _The Alliance was lucky with the Reich. This will expose the inability of the Alliance to defend itself against IU-equipped enemies. One cannot be strong everywhere._

"We need to go talk to the President, then. I'll get back to you about your Romulan-hunting mission when we have an answer on whether or not we're going to ask for Klingon help-and whether or not we're going to get it."

"I would return to _Huascar_ , then, and see if we can leverage our assets to assist in your defenses." Zhen'var itched to be back on her ship, not here _,_ away from her command, when there was such a looming threat over them all.

"Very well then, there's no need to keep you here while we attempt the diplomatic arrangements. Captain, you are dismissed," Vizadmiral Reislich said simply, and rose. "We will all be very busy and hopefully that is all it will come to."

"Thank you, Admiral. _Grau_ to _White_ , stand-by for three to beam up."


	19. Episode 4 Act 2

**Act 2**

Over the next several days the situation calmed, somewhat. There were no further attacks, and other elements of the Alliance Navy were in hot pursuit of the SS raiders. The high level of alert continued, but they had to remain at Condition Yellow with the practical reality of having to avoid the crew simply collapsing in exhaustion. With movement in the ship hindered by maintaining modified ZEBRA, extensive travel through her decks still remained an adventure.

Nah'dur still found a way to get up to Zhen'var's cabin during a time when they were both off duty. The Captain's younger stepsister was politely put together, but still seemed brimming with her usual frenetic energy.

"Nah'dur?" Zhen'var was blinking in confusion as she opened the door to her quarters, gesturing in. "Please, come in. What brings you here? Anything I can get you?"

"Some _Ytar,_ please," she said, naming a broth tisane and smiling as she stepped into Zhen'var's Captain's quarters. "Thank you, Elder Sister," she added, formal but not addressing her as a Captain.

"Well, sit down." She brought Nah'dur the mug and moved to flop down in her own small sitting area, shuffling some datapads on the small table there into a neater pile. "What is it?" She was trying to think what would bring the Surgeon-Commander here - the journey at modified-ZEBRA was not easy from Main Sickbay.

"I wanted to ask how you're doing, Zhen. This has been a very stressful time for the entire crew," Nah'dur answered, taking the mug gratefully.

"As I tell Va'tor every week, as well as can be expected." There was a hint of wary stress in that voice-Zhen'var was on a notably more frequent schedule of visits than most of the other members of the crew, for several reasons.

"That means you clearly need your sister," Nah'dur answered, leaning in with her button-nose gently twitching. "Have you created that dating profile yet?"

"Of _course not_ , when would I have had time for something as frivolous as that?" The Captain gestured to the pile of reports on her desk even now. _Quite the birthday celebration, isn't it? Paperwork and war alerts._

"Possibly your birthday?" She nudged at Zhen'var. "As good a thing to do as any, now. It won't take long."

" _Nah_ , I have _reports_ to write." There was a nearly wheedling tone to it, as she gestured to a wall chrono. "My birthday is over in two hours anyhow, this can wait, it has waited this long already, has it not?"

"No, it can't. I want to see your cute girlfriend and then watch as you get mated! It will certainly happen soon if you have a dating profile. I know you're very serious about commitment," Nah'dur answered insistently. "Come on, you're a _prize_ for any Dilgar woman so inclined. There are not many active duty Dilgar warship Battlemasters. The social prestige is immense."

"When would I have time even to _date_ anyone, Nah? That would require leave back _home_ , and that shows no signs of happening during this commission. I am a _Captain_ now, it is not as if I am a young Combat Expert anymore." Still, her refusals were growing less vehement, and more tired.

"Oh, come now. You could have an on-line relationship over the Extranet. And then when you finally meet it will be so sweet and romantic."

"As if I even have time for…" Zhen'var sighed. "Stop looking at me like that. _Fine_ , but I am _making_ you help. I barely _use_ the Extranet."

"Brilliant!" She drank heavily from her mug and grinned. "Let's get started. Of course I'm going to help. I love helping you, Zhen."

"I am sure… now, how does this work…?"

Nah'dur leaned over the computer with her and brought up the extranet site. The Dilgar extranet was on the extreme corner of the system, and was still a reality of low-bandwidth, low-power technology to avoid detection; it had a charming clunkiness that someone who had grown up with the Earth 90s internet might appreciate. The result was a page with a simple search-box and rows of dating profiles in neat Dilgar script, under the banner (also in Dilgar script) of _Union Female-Female Romance Services, By Women For Women._ Each one was plain-text with a single picture and the search terms corresponded with some standardized entry boxes in the list.

"Divine, but this feels like a history lesson… I think one of the pictures Fei'nur took on Gersal will do best. What are these other fields…?"

"Interests, age, height, blood-type, you know, those sorts of things that other women might sort and search by! I've met a bunch of girlfriends on here-there's nothing sweeter than a picnic at the top of a Mesa when you're healthy on Rohric, and it comes rarely I know, but when you feel good enough to climb, it is a lovely world to share with someone. And Fei'nur took some pictures on Gersal? Yes, those will do! Here, you go to the upper righthand corner to create your own new profile. You should create a profile name for it."

"A profile name? What is wrong with _my_ name…?" Zhen'var blinked slowly, starting to become slightly worried at how _enthusiastic_ her little sister was being.

"Well, nobody uses their real name at first. I think it's a legacy of when this was all hush-hush in the Old Imperium Days-remember, this would have all been underground then. Usually they get exchanged when you meet in person or after a few rounds of conversation in a private message, you know, that sort of thing."

"I am supposed to use a _fake name_ on a _dating site_? Nah, this is… I have never done anything _like_ this. Divine, I have not _dated_ in _years!_ "

"Well, that's why you need to use it. So we can fix that." She wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders. "Come on. You deserve to be happy like everyone else."

"I… all right." She still looked skeptical, as gloved hands reached out to start typing.

"Can I look through the pictures of you and Fei'nur from Gersal to find the best one?" Nah'dur asked politely as she let Zhen'var type.

Distracted, the elder woman waved. "Very well, they are on my personal datapad, go ahead."

Nah'dur was soon eagerly flipping through the pictures. All of them. When she saw Zhen'var was close to finishing, she glanced up. "Hmm. None of these pictures really, you know, show off the real you as well as they could."

"The 'real me'...? What are you talking about _now_? I was relaxed when Fei'nur took those, I thought they came out rather well, too."

"Well, you know, you want to show that you're a physically fit Dilgar female, and that … Those pictures are in a lot of clothes, Zhen. Perhaps you have one wearing exercise gear instead?"

Sister or not, Zhen'var gave Nah'dur a _glare_. "You want a picture of me in _less clothing_ for this profile? I do _not_ have candid photographs of myself working out!"

"Why not? I mean, you want to show them your muscles…"

"Why? It should be the profile that attracts them, not the picture! Look, I am certain that no-one _else_ chose risque shots for their profile!"

Nah'dur immediately looked a little hurt.

"Oh _Gods_ , **you** did."

"...I get lots of hookups!"

"You _are my little sister_!"

"And that matters _how?_ mother-Shai has always been supportive. Hmmf."

"Kasme, you are so jungli sometimes!"

Nah'dur blanched and she had the decency to look embarrassed, the combination of her mother's stories and the universal translator conveying _everything necessary._ "Sorry, sister. You're right," she finally allowed. "I suppose for the conservative serious religious type your going for your vacation pictures are perfectly fine. You'll probably end up mating a Priestess or something and that will actually make you really happy and all of those other bourgeoisie contentment things. That is the human term, right?"

"Oh, come off it, Bollywood may be unrealistic, but it is not as if I am not _open-minded_ , Nah." The Captain _still_ looked flustered.

"Well, yes, but what do you waaant?" She trailed the word out with a roll of her tongue with a kind of cute growling noise, leaning against her sister as she watched her finish filling out the dating profile.

"Someone… I can be comfortable with, who is polite, who _respects_ me… I am not being too demanding, am I? The other things you mentioned would be… nice."

"No, I don't think you are asking for too much. Of course, there's different kinds of politeness when your neck is the one being bitten than when you're doing the biting, but you'll learn that intimately with a good lover.. And it's not really my job to educate you on that as my sister." She nodded firmly and made an expression recognisable in Dilgar as _yucky,_ more or less. "Namely I'm not an Islander," uncritically referencing a popular stereotype that one of the few Prime Dilgar ethnic minority groups identifiable as such were obsessed with incest.

"Be nice, Nah, their traditions were held _tightly_ through the Imperium, and they are true and authentic. Now that we are finished, you should get back to your quarters. It is getting very late, and we have dawn quarters coming up."

"I'm also very hungry, and I'm certain you are as well…" Nah'dur tugged at Zhen'var. "Come on, we'll go down to the Varna Café and get you something nice."

"I have the replicator, it will be fine… you are not going to let me say no, are you?" The elder sister sighed audibly and stood. "All right. Let us get very familiar with bypass passages."

"Brilliant." She cheerfully led her Captain down through them, her eyes far too bright for the hour as she swung herself nimbly through hatch-combings and scrambled down ladders with a comfortable aplomb. "You should see Ca'elia do this, she can take it all at a _blind run,_ Captain," she reverted to formality in public for the sake of discipline.

"She impressed Fei'nur on the holodeck obstacle run training course, I recall." Zhen'var replied, swinging along after. "I am quicker in zero-gravity, blame muscle memory for that."

"I'm envious of that. I wish I'd grown up in space." She sighed. "Of course, it's not hard to want to grow up somewhere other than Rohric, despite how beautiful the planet is, and how interesting the ecosystem is."

"That is a feeling everyone who has _visited_ Rohric agrees with." Reflexively, Zhen'var rubbed at her throat, remembering the agony even a short visit had left her in.

"I worry if I don't solve the spores in another few years the planet will end up deserted," Nah'dur sighed. Then she smiled as they arrived at Café Varna, and waiting before them… Was a little party at a table.

Elia, Ca'elia, Aur'ma, Fei'nur, and… Abebech.

The last made Zhen'var _stare_. Well, Ca'elia and Aur'ma were surprising too, but… _Abebech?_ "... Imra…?"

"You can call me by my first name if you want to, Captain," Abebech answered, and smiled faintly. "Happy Birthday, is how I believe they said it? I mean, perhaps it's just an excuse for more Karvavitsa, but I really do think …"

Elia was laughing. "Happy birthday, Zhen'var."

"Mother sends her regards to Ka'var's kit," Ca'elia added, daringly and chipper.

"You… are actually celebrating _my_ birthday…" She sniffled and turned her head away with a violent motion. "Elia, I would have expected _you_ if we were not on alert, and you, Nah'dur, but… the rest of you?"

"Well, Corps Birthday is best enjoyed with company, so why not your birthday as well?" Elia asked.

Fei'nur looked a bit sheepish. "Captain, of course I wouldn't miss it. You are my friend. Do you know the first time I visited a planet for pleasure? It was in fact with you at Gersal…"

"Thank you, Fei'nur… you are not escaping a rib roast on _your_ birthday now, I hope you know." She turned back, tears glittering in her eyes. "You… _thank you,_ all of you."

As she sat with her friends, a message popped up on her omnitool. _Everything is kinda crazy on the_ Eendracht _right now but Happy Birthday Zhen'var. Sharon._

Still wiping away tears, she tapped back. _Here too. Thank you, Sharon. Thank you more than I can dare say._

When she got back to her quarters, a little glowing light indicated that she had another request to connect.

Glancing at the chrono, Zhen'var let out a soft little groan of tiredness before she tapped 'accept', after adjusting her jacket and straightening her hair.

"Oh, there's no need to do that, it's just Appe," Kaveri was in her Dilgar duty uniform, sitting at her own desk, and used the comfortably familiar Tulu word for Mother, that unique and very matriarchal language which had reversed the root words for mother and father, alone among the Dravidian tongues. "Though I wouldn't think in any eternities to stop you from being dignified, my daughter."

Her face broke into an honest smile. "Mother! You called, I thought you would be far too busy with the re-mobilization! I… am glad to see you. I just got back, Nah'dur forced me to go to a surprise party in our ship's cafe."

"...Nah'dur is, I see, living up to her reputation in a good way. Wonderful." A smile matched her daughter's. "And, actually, we hadn't gotten back to Rohric for the decommissioning ceremony yet, so _Wrath_ is currently on a speed run to reinforce the garrison fleet over Germania even though I think the likelihood of a Nazi attempt on regaining their capital is very small."

"Always the effort to secure what will never be attacked, when the frontier is far more vulnerable… she also... " Zhen'var paused. "... Forced me to try to start dating again." It came out in something of a quiet exhalation, rushed and jumbled together, unlike her usual poise.

"Are you comfortable with that? You're not the kind of woman to let yourself be _forced,_ " Kaveri answered, a thoughtful frown crossing her face. "You've never stopped being assertive, even when you were in that ashram recovering from the Line. So I hardly think this is Nah'dur being an impertinent little sister. Well. She's being an impertinent little sister, but not in that way. In general."

"I needed a push. You _know_ it has not gone well for me before, mother." Regret suffused her tone - it had not gone well, _nor_ happened often in the past.

"I know. At a time when you should have been a bold young officer, you instead bore the terrible weight of that desperate fight to save our homeworld. Zhen, for so long you have had to neglect yourself out of duty. Don't subsume that duty into a part of who you are. Don't assume that just because it commanded you then, means that you are unfit because of the past. You're one of the most loving people I know, actually."

"We will see, mother. This is a truly _inauspicious_ time to attempt any such beginning, but I have… still tried. If there is a response…"

"Do give her time, whomever she is, Zhen. I _suspect_ from what your sisters have said you are focused on other Dilgar women, and the mass emergency mobilisation probably captures most of the sorts you'd fancy."

"You and Nah'dur both seem to think so." She shook her head with a small sigh. " _Thank you_ for calling, Mother."

"Now you need to get to bed, I suspect, from your shipboard time. But first: Happy Birthday, Zhen. You have your White Ship, and I pray her many successes. As for me," a wry grin, "I have discovered perhaps the second thing I love in all the Imperium to Shai'jhur: When you execute a stop-loss for the entire crew of a ship, you only sign one form instead of one per crewer."

Zhen'var's laugh bubbled over. "The Alliance is not nearly so simple, mother! I feel a great jealousy now!"

"You say that, but I was recently tasked with serving on a committee reviewing the Articles of War for provisions in violation of Alliance law. You can quite well imagine how that is going, Zhen." She was laughing too, though.

"Next time we meet, I will need to compare notes. I do not think I need to say more, do I?"

"Certainly not. I love you, Zhen. Stay safe and strike hard. _Namaste,_ Zhen."

Placing her hands palm to palm before her, Zhen'var bowed to her mother. " _Namaste_ , Mother."

* * *

Captains didn't get to sleep in, so the birthday party inevitably meant a little less sleep than might have been optimal before the pealing of Dawn General Quarters work them all up onboard the _Huáscar._ After Zhen'var took the conn and conducted a short battle-drill with the orbital naval and militia squadrons, she replicated herself breakfast in her ready room ( _Poi_ bread with chorizo, since Goa was the only place she could think of that had meat with breakfast). Granted, these days she just had one piece of _Poi_ and the rest of the meal was chorizo and sauce, but that was part of the gastronomic reality of being Dilgar. It tasted good.

Then the paperwork started, as ever. It was a quick way to pass the time, until a chime on the door reminded her that her Chief of the Boat was waiting for their thrice-weekly enlisted personnel status meeting.

"Chief Dugan, come in!" She called out from her desk, looking up with a smile on her face. She always would have a soft spot for the mustachioed Chief after the first _Huascar_.

"Captain," he came to attention and moved to sit. "Might as well be on the love boat," he remarked about the lack of saluting. "Ma'am. So, the BLUF is that the situation is definitely impacting morale. Not readiness, yet, but definitely morale. Everyone thought the war was over, and it turns out they thought wrong."

"Hope taken away after being given is the worst, and our op-tempo has increased far above what was expected when we were dispatched. Consumables will be somewhat stressed, but we should manage, by my projections. I cannot spare shore leave, Chief, anything we do for morale will need to minimize impacts to readiness."

"...Yeah, I get that, Captain." He grinned. "So how about a steel beach party, Ma'am?"

"Chief, should I be concerned that the mental image of a grill full of poultry is making me ravenously hungry when you suggest that? I think that means the Dilgar half of the crew is going to like the idea, once it is explained to them, do you not?"

"I remain absolutely convinced the best way to improve Dilgar-Human relations is with a bunch of barbeques," Chief Dugan deadpanned. "The Marines can fill their largest size of HESCOs with water to create some mini-pools, too. The ones the Alliance uses are waterproof plastic."

" _That_ will go over less well, I am certain… still. You have permission to draw from the recreation fund if there is anything you need from the planet and plan a proper steel beach party - _two drink limit_ , and I expect that to be _strictly_ enforced, Chief.

His expression tightened. "Oh, you betcha, ma'am. And I mean it, too. If we let anyone have even a drop out of a third can, we'd get our ass canned by a squadron of Nazi cruisers fifteen minutes later. I know how the universe works. Every single one of 'em so far, in fact."

"Is there anything else, Chief? That was good thinking, something to take minds off the shock will go over well, I hope."

"I heard about the operation you're going to let Lieutenant tr'Rllaillieu undertake. You should keep it quiet from the crew, Ma'am. I understand the logic in it but a lot of people will think it's a shore leave lark with a shuttle in the middle of a major alert if they hear snippets without any context. Definitely want the right people along to make it look serious and keep the El-Tee out of trouble."

"I agree. If he asks Colonel Fei'nur, I am going to let her go, and _she_ is capable of making _anything_ look serious. I _am_ concerned about covert erosion of our influence in the Triangle, a single ship is badly overmatched by the variety of responsibilities the Alliance faces here."

"Yeah, news of this is going to break fast, and I'm sure when it does, every damn pirate and slaver in this joint is going to figure they're back in business. Awh heck, ma'am, they probably all already know more than we do."

"Commander Imra is going to be Captain Imra rather often, I think. We will be spreading ourselves as thin as we dare as _soon_ as the threat of major raiders is reduced. If we adopt a bunker mentality, we lose everything but this one system."

"My opinion's worth about a penny about strategy, Captain, but if all we've got are attackers and a cruiser we might as well keep our cruiser as the battleship and send out attacker patrols. My deck crews can support them rotationally."

"Point taken, Chief, if we can sustain that operations-tempo, that is what we will have to do until relieved."

"We'll manage that, as long as the crew doesn't go stir crazy, Ma'am. So I'll start putting the shindig together." A pause, and he picked up his flimsy and then put it down. again "Now… Do you want the good news first, or the number of Dilgar sailors caught with hooch?"

Zhen'var let out a _long_ sigh. "Let us start with the good news, I already _know_ how depressingly high the second will be…"

* * *

The Local Defence Force had their own plan, and as it turned out, it wasn't hot water at all. The next day, forty-two Klingon Birds of Prey, all older marks but serviceable, and a positively elderly (but refitted several times) D-7, arrived in orbit, to the usual alert when first detected. From the Condition Yellow that they were holding, the ship reached Condition Red in a well-drilled two minutes and forty-six seconds from when Will had called the alarm. _That_ was satisfying, at least.

These were, of course, the legendary Klingon House forces, and 'legendary' was not necessarily a compliment. They were not controlled by the central government and so were wildly unpredictable and of course had provided various houses over the years plenty of military strength for such activities as civil wars. They had once been tightly controlled, a hundred years ago, but Praxis and Khitomer had finished that off as the Klingon government slowly collapsed into fundamentalism and factionalism. The Empire was not what it used to be, even if it had an outwardly strong face.

Their presence was still both welcome and useful. They would know how to fight and their sheer numbers would help give the edge against a powerful Reich squadron operating against the planet from the surprise of interuniversal drives.

Zhen'var arrived on the bridge, rubbing her eyes. "Good job with the alert timing, Will. Elia has secondary?"

"Yes. It's a good experience for her when we call on the third watch so I start from the bridge. And I didn't do anything to get her buttoned up this fast, that was all the section heads and NCOs."

"True." She grinned a little. "So, let's see our Klingons…"

"About exactly what we expected," Will said as he turned toward the screen. "Eighty year old veterans of a dozen fights, filled with warriors spoiling for a thirteenth."

"Quite." Zhen'var watched the old D-7 swing toward them and line up right ahead.

"The Klingons are hailing, Captain." An Ensign Carter was in the rotation for comms at that hour.

"That is to be expected. On-screen, Ensign."

The grim darkness of a Klingon bridge, set up more like a temple to the commander, an old bardic hall, than something that had been designed to optimise the operational art, certainly caught the eye. The shaggy, snaggle-toothed grimness of the Klingons matched their surroundings.

"Greetings, Alliance Starship. We have arrived at the request of the local government. I am Commander Krodak of the House of Ghu'prlal. We will _assist_ you in your hour of need at the request of our _friends._ " He smirked. "Still, I mean no disrespect. I have studied the history of your ship, and though young, it bears an honourable story. Such a name!"

Zhen'var thought she had a fairly good idea of how to deal with this. "Indeed it is, Commander Krodak. And so I am inviting you and the senior officers of the House of Ghu'prlal to dinner tonight, where you can see the paintings in the officer's mess."

"I … Accept," he saluted. "We will dine with you, Captain. In eight hours, send the beaming coordinates." The screen blinked off.

"Well, Captain, we just got ourselves in for one hell of a dinner party."

"So we have. Dinner should fit the Klingon palate, but _not_ make my officers ill. The only one of us allowed to indulge in blood-wine is going to be Fei'nur… let us be about it, Commander."

"I'll volunteer to take the lead for organising it," Will replied, shaking his head. "Gods, I must be some kind of moron."

"But a moron who is a _valued member of the command team._ " Zhen'var grinned as comfortingly as she could.

* * *

By midday, Violeta was off shift and staring at a beer mug in Café Varna. Alexandra's brusque approach to customer service was already becoming legendary on the ship. The woman brought her Gyuvech with a customary clatter of plates. Violeta smiled wryly. Hot and spicy soup was certainly called for.

"Here, eat food."

"Thank you, Alexandra," Violeta answered. The words got no reply as the woman, harried as ever, hastened on to the next table. With no shore leave, the crew's only recourse for hanging out informally was Café Varna, and it was packed.

Violeta took out her datapad and finally forced herself to hit enter on the message she'd been mulling. _Commander Saumarez, this is Lieutenant Arteria. Do you know if the final loss reports from New Liberty are in yet?_

Quietly gnawing on her since the day the report had come down from the Captain on _what_ the alerts were about, the reality was that the brief, brusque statement that New Liberty's defending forces had been destroyed meant that it was entirely possible Caterina Delgado was dead. The guilt had been gnawing at her since. Survivor's guilt, not like it was unheard of or uncommon for someone getting a transfer and then their old ship buying it a few weeks or months later with heavy loss of life. It had happened to Daria when she'd transferred to the _Aurora._

She ate her soup and looked at the screen. It was delicious soup. The world seemed to have a certain lack of colour in it from her emotions, though. Fear and anxiety caused that.

 _No, Lieutenant,_ the message back flashed up on her screen, _however, I could just try to raise the_ Aurora _on fleet comms now. The traffic has died down to the point that we can do low-priority bandwidth again, within the past few hours._

Violeta's eyes widened with a hint of momentary hope. _Please!_

 _No problem,_ Elia tapped back.

It became very hard to eat her soup as she waited for the reply back, or even nurse her beer.

And then the datapad chimed. _I've got a line._

A moment passed, then another, as if the other side was preoccupied, or may not connect after all. Finally Cat's voice came over the line. " _Hi Vee_." There was no mistaking the anguish or exhaustion on the other end.

"... _Oh Cat!_ We heard the entire squadron at New Liberty had bought it. You're all right. You're all right!" She nearly knocked her beer over. "And the _Aurora_ is too since that's how Commander Saumarez raised you."

" _Yeah. The ship survived. But…_ " It was clear Cat was trying to figure out how to say what was on her mind. " _She's gone, Vee. Julia's gone. We… we think they might have taken her._ _I didn't find any definitive sign of vaporization and…_ "

"Oh no…" Violeta shivered. She had seen the emaciated survivors of the camps, even those who had been in them for just a few months having been captured during the war had suffered horrifyingly. The prospect that Captain Andreys was _dead,_ though… She quietly had another drink of her beer, she drank beer so rarely preferring wine, but there she was. "Maybe she'll be rescued when we nail their base. We can hope for that, right?" _Right? …_

" _Robert and Lucy are off looking for clues. Somewhere in N2S7. I hope we find her. Or at least know what happened to her. I… I just don't know how things are going to go. I mean, we went through all of that fighting over Germania to stop this, and… it's like it's for nothing. We failed. And a lot of people on New Liberty died._ "

"You didn't fail, Cat. We didn't fail. If the Nazis had finished the drive when they still controlled their Reich and capital, they would have _occupied_ New Liberty, they would have _scoured_ Gersal, there'd be _billions_ dead, not millions. You saved billions of lives. The Alliance will overcome this. I know we will."

Silence followed, broken by a sniffle. " _My head says you're right. It's just… all of the bodies, and the shooting… it was horrible. And if the Quarians hadn't shown up when they did…_ _Sorry, I'm sure you've been worried a lot about us. Here I am, being all woe-is-me on you. You made it away from Gersal before the attack, right?_ "

"...Yes, we were three days out, bound for the Triangle in S3T5. We're on patrol here. The only Alliance ship bigger than an Attacker in the entire region. The next closest is on the other side of the Cardassian frontier, a week away at high warp. Captain's pretty nervous about it all. She's been calling Condition Red at shipboard dawn every day whether or not there's a threat to keep everyone on their toes."

" _That's really… I guess she's afraid the SS will show up like they did here. Out of nowhere, almost no warning. We got a little lucky from Angel's friend warning her about something being up, it led us to the warehouse they smuggled their sabotage teams through. And their jump beacon. It's the only reason we had warning to raise shields_."

"Yeah. We've had shields up continuously for past three days now. Just two beam-down cycles for the Captain to meet the local defence forces and then return. And _Heermann_ has been undocked the entire time. But we haven't fought anyone, so we're pretty lucky. It's just a lot of waiting and being cooped up and not knowing what's going on."

" _We're still repairing battle damage here. The ship took some casualties, we lost warp drive and several systems. Scotty and Tom have been working almost non-stop it seems. The Quarians are helping where they can, but there's a lot of debris to clear. Would you mind giving Fera'Xero a hug for me? I mean, I know he wasn't here, but the Quarians arrived just in time to save us. I'd be dead if they hadn't shown up when they did._ "

"I totally will. We owe him a lot already for what happened at A Bao a Qu."

" _I heard something about you being involved in some kind of big battle. Did they really fly through space in big space mechs? Like the ones in F1S1?_ "

"Oh you better believe it... "

* * *

Late that afternoon, before the final set-up for the Klingons to arrive, Arterus arrived at the Captain's Ready Room. "Captain, permission to enter?"

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Please, sit." Zhen'var put down a tablet and leaned back in her chair, expression calm. "To what matter of business do I owe this meeting?"

"I have received a letter from my sister," he answered, and thrust over a hardcopy in the Rihannsu tongue. "It confirms she is being watched. Is there any way at all I may still go?" He looked both tense and reserved. He was a Rihannsu, and well understood duty.

"Yes, actually. You are not to speak of the matter further, due to the current situation. Who do you want for your team? The Triangle is unsettled enough that I am deeming the matter to be one of Alliance security. The Tal Shiar are _not_ friendly to our interests."

"I'd been recommended to ask Fei'nur, but the alerts have prevented me from doing so to date. Lieutenant Seldayiv as well?"

"I see no reason not to add her if you expect possible conflict. As a growth experience, I want you to put together an outline for the proposed team and a mission brief. I will review it." She reached for her omnipresent teacup. "Work quickly, Lieutenant, I do not want you to arrive too late."

"I understand perfectly, Captain. With your leave we will depart tonight after the dinner with the Klingons." He rose. "Thank you. I believe you will like my cousin very much."

"One might hope so. Do not, as an aside, speak of the mission generally. It would come off wrongly to the crew. Dismissed, Lieutenant."

" _Khre'Riov_! Understood. I stand dismissed." He smiled as he came to attention, and then departed.

* * *

Arterus went immediately to meet with Colonel Fei'nur, starting to compose the outline for the proposed team and summary of the mission brief as he walked. Arterus deeply respected the woman, who his Dilgar comrades on the ship universally held to be an exemplar of honour, loyalty, professional acumen and competence. Everything he had seen only reinforced the view. To a Rihannsu, someone who rose from the ranks with no great family name was dangerous, legendary, or both. Fei'nur certainly was.

The woman in question was currently fighting the bane of her existence; Alliance paperwork, in the office she still marveled at actually ever having _gotten_. "Lieutenant." She looked up with a querying look on her face, standing to her full height. "I do not recall you coming down to the Marine areas before."

"Colonel, it's so, but we have a situation and a mission that I would like to discuss with you," he answered, drawing him up to attention, even as he shot his very brief, several-sentence preliminary drafts over to Fei'nur's account.

The veteran officer glanced down at the notifications, frowning slightly, then her expression relaxed. "The Captain told me I should be on alert for a detached operation. This is why, then... Is there any further information on the situation, or what resources will be available?"

"We have the reports from the surface of unusual activity of the Praetorian government's ships," Arterus said the name he and his cousin used, bluntly denying them the title of Rihannsu, "in the Triangle, and a letter was delivered recently from my cousin confirming that she believes that she has been found out and is being watched. Of course, if it was a personal matter, I would not ask for this help… But we both know that when one is the heir to a throne, everything takes on a political dimension as well, and the Captain directed me to act on regular duty orders."

"Then the understanding is that we are to move in covertly, with the ability to move to overt operation if necessary… we will need an intelligence ship, or the closest we can create, with support… a small team, then." She read his plan, quickly, making a few markings as she went. Fei'nur usually went in alone, but she had led enough commando raids to be more than competent at this sort of operation.

"A single squad on a runabout? For the naval personnel it will be myself and Lieutenant Seldayiv, Colonel, assuming that she volunteers."

"A runabout is _not_ covert, Lieutenant. A small freighter, fitted for smuggling, provides cover for some moderate weaponry, comms gear, and other elements we will require. A heavy squad is for if we must switch _to_ overt; they would follow, with some cover mission that keeps them on station in the event they are needed."

"Understood, then. We can hire such a freighter from the surface, though we'll have to make it quick. How do you go about hiring a freighter, Colonel? Or, I suppose, can you recommend anyone who would know?"

"Chief Heen would be the one aboard ship with the most shipping experience, at least above board. The sooner we do so, the quicker Engineering can make the modifications we will need." She tapped a few keys. "I've sent you an authorization to expend funds for the purpose."

"Understood, Colonel. With your leave, I will go to speak to her immediately. I was trying to leave tonight, but we may have to wait until tomorrow to line up the lease, so the sooner I am about it the better."

"Granted. Be about it, I will prepare myself and my gear for an extended operation off-ship."

He came to attention, and then headed out and straight for his next destination-Chiefs Country, which was actually the residence for all Warrant Officers and Petty Officers, but since a lot (though not all) of them were Chiefs, they were grouped together. All the Warrants and the NCO Chief Petty Officers then shared a mess in turn which the Marine sergeants also shared- _Huáscar_ just had three big messes, one for officers, one for warrants and petty officers, and one for enlisted.

Arterus well remembered his grandmother's stories from the fleet days. You cherished people like the human Chiefs. They had proved by long and hard service that they could get things done. In their area of expertise few could match them, certainly no generalist officer, and they were tactful enough to limit their hesitation and warnings to areas where their competence made them sure. They kept order in the lower ranks and when they were pleased with a ship, it always meant the ship was doing well. Conversely, however, nothing faster could bring ill-discipline than a corrupt Chief who had somehow gotten through the long and arduous process (especially in the Rihannsu Starfleet) to reach that rank.

PriFly had been fully repaired before they left Gersal. They had upgraded the transparent aluminium paneling to improve protection. Stasia was sitting at her swiveling control chair with her trademark pair of heavy-duty headphones and a microphone on, pulled over a crushed up dress cap of the blue uniform of the Starfighter Corps. She was wearing a sweater, though it was in the uniform allotment.

The woman was in an almost continuous chatter with orbital control for Geisling maintaining the local exclusion zone around the squadron. "Sarkauz 13-46 you are fifteen kiloklicks from our exclusion zone, come about on course heading 360-Z16 and begin to descend toward orbital plane Bravo. Dera 55-98, maintain separation one kiloklick from Eedam 10-90 on heading 090-Z40… Johnson 42-30 you are approaching the exclusion zone at twenty-three kiloklicks and need landing authorisation to descend on course heading 220-Z15 to orbital plane Alpha for reentry; contact Geisling primary on band 10-Alpha and confirm permission, reduce speed to 2 klicks-second to hold until permission received."

She glanced up at Arterus and then killed her mic for a moment. "Chief Ter'yun, take control." The second on watch seamlessly activated his console to take over lead for squadron exclusion duties. "Confirm, PriFly Actual at Station Two," he declared as he pointed at the indicator light and then activated his mic and began to speak to the freighters.

"What can I help you with, Lieutenant?"

"Chief Héen," he said, hesitating for a moment. PriFly was always a little overwhelming and the display had left him mildly guilty that he was about to disrupt her work-flow. But he'd already done that. "Chief Héen, I need some assistance with an authorised rental of a civilian merchant on Geisling for myself and Colonel Fei'nur to use, with the Captain's permission."

"Huh. That's a new one. Are we talking about a wetboat or bareboat charter?" She answered as she flipped her console from displaying the orbital chatter to an extranet access terminal. "And did you check the UGP Admin website yet?" She added.

The Alliance Unified Government Purchasing Administration. Arterus tried to remember if he'd ever experienced something closer to hell. "Wetboat? Bareboat? Would they really have a lease?"

"I _might_ be able to get a dry lease… It means no crew, by the way, bareboat, and dry should at least have provisions but not services," she explained, "On UGP, though the interface sucks. We could also call down to the planet, but if I'm guessing that Colonel Fei'nur authorised this, she might not like the like eight forms she'll have to sign afterwards."

"...We are in a hurry, that might yet be necessary."

"How soon?"

"Later today, optimally."

Stasia cast him a baleful look. "Yeah… Screw UGP. Especially right now. It's crashed ten times since the re-mob started. Okay, so the main spaceport on the planet is called Allen's Town and that's where most of the small independent traders go. There's a few specialist ports for exports that pick up the big bulkers. I'll tap the ATC network and make some calls, we should be able to get you something ready by 0400 tomorrow at the latest."

"I'll take that, Chief. Thank you."

"No problem! I just like getting things done, and with every single warship we've got concentrated here but ready to cover a second planet a moment's notice, traffic is as congested as hell, anyway. Need the break sometimes."


	20. Episode 4 Act 3

**Act 3**

The Klingons were coming to dinner. The _Huáscar_ 's shields went down-and would stay that way, even as they remained technically at Condition Yellow, but reduced to MC Yoke. The situation, with rapid mobilisation of the reserves, had unambiguously improved in the past four days to warrant the risk for this-and they'd need to bring the Klingon commanders back to their ships rapidly in the event of an attack, so it made sense.

Violeta managed to not be involved because in the circumstances Zhen'var insisted on having one of her command staff on the bridge. Abebech, of course, was temporarily leading the defence force as the senior Alliance officer, and had pushed her attackers further out to provide more warning. That meant that Will was at her side, and so was Fei'nur, Nah'dur, Anna, Lar'shan (the schedules had worked out for his rotation on flight duty), Daria, Arterus, Fera'xero. All were in full dress uniform, except Fera'xero, but he'd put on his best sash.

Considering Klingon standards of honour, this included swords. Anna had a Koncierz given to her by a relative during a visit to Warsaw. Zhen'var, Fei'nur, and Nah'dur used their Dilgar service pattern swords, but Lar'shan carried an English sword given to him by one of his father's human friends who had bitterly opposed the expulsion from New Eden. Daria brought out the memory metal blade she was still training with, Fera'xero demurred from the custom due to the risk to his suit, and Will and Arterus both used swords that had been given to them as gifts by Casval Rem Deikun after he had taken power in Zeon before their departure.

Both the transporter room and the conference suite converted to a banquet room had been selected to be directly below the bridge so that if an alert was called they could be to their posts in seconds while the Klingons were beamed clear. "Klingons signalling readiness for transport," the transporter chief reported.

Will glanced around, satisfying himself everyone was put together. "Captain, with your leave?"

"So granted, Commander." She imperceptibly stiffened. _This is going to be interesting…_

The transporter effect, different from that of this universe, flashed over the group of twelve Klingon officers. As it faded, bosun's mate Tel'mur sounded his bosun's whistle-Chief Dugan had personally trained the Dilgar. Krodak looked sharply, and then his eyes twisted back to Zhen'var. "Captain Zhen'var, _qaqIHmo' jIQuch,_ " A snaggle-toothed grin. "Or do you prefer _Battlemaster_?"

"Both are correct ranks, Commander Krodak. I answer to either." She gave a sharp nod of greeting. "My officers." She would introduce each, in turn.

He inclined his head. "It is good. Your people were faced with destruction and dared great things in response. Of Dilgar _bravery,_ there is no doubt." Still, he left the word a bit hanging. "I have heard I am not the first Klingon to meet a Dilgar."

"Colonel Fei'nur has done so before, that is correct." She would not rise to the bait, even if Fei'nur slightly bristled.

"Battlemaster Fei'nur. Yes, that was the name I heard." He made a gesture of respect. "It is said your drinking is legendary. You must be familiar indeed with the words _'IwlIj jachjaj_ to win such praise."

"I have not lost any of it recently, so it may scream quite loudly, Commander." She replied, baring her teeth fractionally.

He bared his teeth too, grinning. " _Qapla'_!" Then he nodded with his head, sharply. "Let us sup, Battlemaster Zhen'var, as allies."

"Indeed. Everything has been prepared." She would turn to lead them towards the mess, as Fei'nur watched the Klingons warily. She knew that gaining respect could be a double-edged sword with these sorts.

It could, but the Klingons looked forward to the feast that the ship's Hospitality Staff was laying out before them. They settled down with the officers of the ship. Elia was waiting, having stayed behind to make sure everything in the banquet room was in order, and Zhen'var introduced her.

"The last of my officers, but certainly not the least, Battle Expert Elia Saumarez, my Operations Officer."

"We greet you in honour," Elia presented herself to them. "Please, sit."

"You have a Dilgar rank," one of the Klingons, Lieutenant Varas, observed, with all the bluntness that befit a Klingon. "Why?"

"I am an old _Huáscareno_ ," Elia answered levelly, "which means I know no fear."

"Hah. Those are strong words from a human," Varas smirked.

"But I mean it," Elia stared at the Klingons, and then gestured to the grand painting on the wall of the Battle of Angamos which had been moved from the wardroom for the occasion. Flanking it were several close-ups, showing the desperate struggle of the men on the deck. "Harm's Way is the Valiant Way! That is the battle-cry of the Dilgar Imperium's Navy in the old days, and we do not forget it. The _Huáscarenos_ preferred to fight for Honour and Right above any other thing, and so we found ourselves windswept, but unbent and unbowed. May I tell you the story of the name, from these combats to the present?"

"Yes, come on with it, Battle Expert, let's hear a story of war!" The Klingons roared as the liquor was passed around.

Zhen'var leaned back in her chair with a smile she hid with a cup. _That's it exactly, Elia. Now let's just get through the night without bloodshed._

Elia pulled back into her sense of the epic based on her reading of O'Brien and Forrester and delivered a rousing tale of the Peruvian Civil War and then the War of the Pacific. She immediately got the impression that few Klingons were familiar with the incredibly bloody history of humanity. When she reached the Combat of Angamos and covered Grau's heroic death on the deck in honourable reprise of the death of Captain Prat that he had inflicted against the _Esmerelda_ , the Klingons _roared._

When she got to the Combat of Arica and the death of the Chilean Captain Thomson in battle against the _Manco Cápac,_ Commander Krodak laughed ferociously. "Battlemaster, you willingly sought out command of a ship whose namesake took three commanders' lives in one war? Truly you have a heart equal of a Klingon."

"An honorable death in battle, as they gained for themselves? It is not such a terrible thing, Commander." She replied, carefully picking her words. "It is a wretched _kshatriya_ who returns unwounded from battle."

"Kshatriya. My translator struggles with it, but I think that is a human tongue's name for a warrior, is it not?" He folded his arms, chuckling. "You are warriors, I don't doubt that. Tell me, Battle Expert, did this first _Huáscar_ fight again?"

"Oh yes!" Elia laughed brilliantly. "The War of the Pacific was won by Chile, but the Chileans were warlike people in those days, and fought a war over a tyrannical ruler amongst themselves as well, a decade later; it was called the War of Congress, and the Navy revolted against the President; they towed the _Huáscar_ out of port in the middle of refit, and readied her for action in three days at sea…"

In the meanwhile, several of the younger Klingon officers near Fei'nur had started drinking with her. Aggressively. That the legend had been brought up meant it was going to be tested.

The old commando had a level expression as she took each mug in turn, and drained it in a calm, unhurried way, challenge glittering in her eyes each time she planted another empty vessel on the table.

Fei'nur's amazing resilience to alcohol was steadily attracting more attention, but Elia was deft at keeping the attention of the crowd as she began to tell the story of the _Huáscar_ of Tira. That was _her_ story after all, the hour on which _she_ had been brave, and chosen right over every kind of fear she had, and it was a chance to sing it.

Zhen'var had a real smile on her face, as she listened to her friend weave her grand tale - one that she _deserved_ to be able to form - and tell others of the tale which had given such a shining moment of glory to that ship.

"And so, we found ourselves exiles for following the path of Honour," Elia finished softly. "There is _no_ shame in that, and never will be. When our cause it is just, then follow it we must. And so we have found ourselves here, on a third _Huáscar,_ and we have already planted our flag in some glory…" She told the story of the Battle of A Bao a Qu, next.

The Klingons were cheerfully drinking and boasting as the stories finished. Krodak had a big snaggle-toothed grin. "Though your ship was much superior, it did fight thousands. You are truly writing a reputation for yourself, Battlemaster. Did you even need us to come? It seems as if you could have fought as gloriously here as Grau at Angamos if the whole of the Nazi squadron had come against you!" It was clear that Elia had completely won the Klingons over to a companionable night of drinking and boasting, and she had sat down to finally eat with a bright grin which inside telegraphed her happiness to Zhen'var at having smoothed potential snags out.

The Captain was well pleased indeed, though she gave a momentary wary look at how Fei'nur was building a pyramid of empty tankards of… _something_.

There were several Klingons looking increasingly incapable around her as she drank, and Krodak was distracted by it for a moment, staring. "Truly, Battlemaster Fei'nur seems unstoppable!"

"She is… unique. The last of an old breed from the Imperium." Zhen'var replied, quietly, as the older Dilgar switched to another fresh tankard. The number of Klingons around her still able to meet her gaze was steadily falling.

"The Old Breed!" The Klingons raised a toast.

Elia had settled down next to Fei'nur, and gently offered a gloved hand to her shoulder-a sisterly sort of affection that Elia knew Fei'nur would not appreciate from any except a Dilgar… And her. _You're doing great keeping them entertained and engaged, but please don't hurt yourself._

It was rare she formed thoughts, not jammed by her cybernetics, but she did. _The Supreme Warmaster crafted my liver and kidneys. I could survive a continuous flow of this into my veins if I had cause to._

Some of the Klingons certainly wondered why Elia was laughing so hard, but most of them attributed it to the alcohol that had been passed around, not really noticing that she had imbibed little of it. Even some of the other officers thought they were finally seeing Elia a little drunk.

Krodak chuckled, shaking his head and quaffing from his stein again. "The legend of Fei'nur continues. Battlemaster Zhen'var, so, we have our combined strength to defend the planet. What of the Triangle?"

"That I shall be attempting to cover as much of as I can as a flying squadron, Commander. Reinforcements are not likely, so I must do my utmost with the forces at hand."

He shook his head. "Battlemaster, the Orions are moving slaves again in the advantage that the withdrawal of the Alliance patrols presents. Not even the regular war with the Reich resulted in this much of a draw-down, and the Federation is distracted by the Dominion. There is no better time for them. My squadron has sensor logs."

Her face went still, white hot fury boiling up in her. "Then I have a need to act." _If I am tied here, what evils will come to pass without my keeping order…?_

"You wish to seek battle with them, and it would be honourable, if the force wasn't so overwhelming. Here, we will detach some young officers with their ships that need blooding, you can send your cloaked ship with us can you not?" The Klingons did not, as a rule, bother with the dishonourable Orions or care what they did outside of Klingon space, but fighting was always a means to ingratiate oneself in Klingon society, the only acceptable one.

"Likely so. Much depends on whether my orders change, but something to restore order must be done. Commander Imra is a veteran who is skilled indeed."

"Could you detach her ship to accompany a small squadron, now that we have arrived?"

"I can, and I shall. A peace is never won by hiding behind walls, and the longer we let them restore their influence, the harder it will be to lever those elements out again."

"Excellent! Then we shall face battle!" The roars of Klingon delight were slightly quieter now, two of them having passed out against Fei'nur. The commando continued to calmly drink.

* * *

After the feasting, Fei'nur came up to Daria in the corridor. She looked remarkably functional for a woman who had just drunk a trice of Klingons under the table.

"Colonel?" Daria stopped, the Dorei woman turning back toward her. "Is something a-matter?"

"No, Lieutenant. Not as such. The Captain has assigned me to lead a covert mission in the Triangle, and I am attempting to assist in assembling a small team for it. I wish you to be on that team with myself."

" _Oh._ Can we talk about it somewhere?" Her ears flexed and her expression narrowed to reflect her attentiveness.

"That would be preferable." She glanced about. "This way, Lieutenant." Fei'nur had memorized the layout of the _Huáscar_ for purposes of defending it, but it had other uses, such as now.

Daria padded along. "I confess, I thought you would be more inebriated than you are. Merciful Goddess, how did you _do_ that?"

"State secret." Fei'nur replied, utterly serious, before her face broke into a smile. "More seriously, I've had a lot of parts replaced over the years."

Daria stared for a moment and then giggled. "Mother… You seriously were drinking them under the table with a cybernetic liver, weren't you, Colonel?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny, Lieutenant, but Dilgar cybernetics may still, _theoretically_ , be ahead of the multiversal bell-curve. Ah, here we go." She stopped at a compartment that was currently vacant, tapping in an override for the two of them to step in.

Daria followed her in with a knowing smile. "All right then. So what's the plan for this mission? What is it about?"

"Chief Héen is attempting to acquire a small freighter. Lieutenant Arterus's cousin is in danger from the _Tal Shiar_. We are going to investigate, possibly get me on the kill-list of _another_ intelligence agency, and extract her from her dangerous current situation. We have corroboration of their activities spiking with the withdrawal of our patrols."

"...With all due respect, Colonel, I like Arterus and I don't want to see his cousin get killed by the Tal Shiar or something else like that, but this effort for one person, a relative of the crew? It seems unfair."

Fei'nur bared her teeth and rose to her full height. "L'tenant, reminding you of your obligations the Official Secrets Act, _his cousin is the exiled de jure Empress of the Rihannsu_." There was a growl in every word, the Colonel having a flare of anger in her usually placid eyes.

Daria pursed her lips. "My apologies, Colonel. I actually hadn't known that. He doesn't talk about it very much. So this is regarded as politically important?"

"The Captain regards it as such, given the difficulties we face in the Triangle."

"Again, my apologies. Of course I will accompany you." She came to attention rigidly. "You have my utmost respect, Colonel."

Fei'nur seemed to uncoil, shaking her head gently. "I know. I'm sorry, Lieutenant, there must be quite the culture shock for us both coming to _Huáscar_."

"She is one of the more military ships in the Alliance, Colonel. I am thankful for her, because her tradition is very righteous and good, but she stands for a part of the Alliance I would have not normally sought out. There are those in high command who seek to make us more military."

"I am not sure there are many captains more military than ours, Lieutenant. If you wish to discuss the matter further off-duty, certainly I am amenable… or on our journey undercover in a freighter, it seems." She inclined her head. "Thank you for being willing."

"It is not a problem. I wouldn't want Arterus to lose his cousin. I did get the impression they were very close. When do I report?"

Fei'nur checked her chrono on her wrist. "I would start packing now, Lieutenant. We are only waiting on our freighter."

"Understood, Colonel. By your leave?"

The Dilgar woman gave her a nod. "So given."

* * *

"We have received orders to sail," Commander Imra said without preamble as she stepped from her cabin onto the bridge of the _Heermann._ On the bridge before her most of the crew were drinking some kind of stimulant beverage, tea or coffee. She had her own heavy-duty handleless navy mug in hand as she stood there, looking like she'd be happier and more dignified with a pea coat over the uniform she was wearing.

"Captain?" Commander Goodenough looked up from the command chair, his dusky face flickering into a grin as he tossed his ponytail back and set his tea mug back into the rack on the armrest. To his background, that specific phrasing brought a bit of a thrill to his blood.

"We are conducting a sweep against Orion slavers that the Klingons identified the ratline for. We'll be leading a squadron of six of those Birds-of-Prey that have functional cloaking devices," she gestured with a gloved hand to the tactical plot on the viewscreen.

"Our own Preventative Squadron?" Goodenough laughed. "With pleasure, Captain."

"You didn't have half so many scoundrels as there are on those half ships, Commander, but at least they are spoiling for a fight, since I aim to get them one," Abebech replied. "Lieutenant Ca'elia, you should have the coordinates. Set them in." She tapped her omnitool. "Abel, we're going hunting. I need Warp Seven in two minutes."

"Warp Seven in two minutes, Captain… Bringing the reactor to full power now. Are we remaining at Condition Yellow?"

"For the moment, yes. Carry-on." She stepped up to Ensign Carstairs at the science/sensor station where Goodenough normally sat. "Raise the Klingon Bird-of-Prey _Karrex._ Request they confirm their squadron's coordinates and check them against our own, and to confirm readiness for warp."

"Sir!"

"Do you want the bridge, Captain?" Goodenough asked.

"No need for that," she shook her head. "Keep your regular watch. It'll be thirty-two hours to reach the location the Klingons described, or more." A pause. "Lieutenant Ca'elia, is our course laid in?"

"Ready to engage on your command, ma'am!" The young helmswoman sounded enthusiastic, green eyes gleaming with excitement.

"The Klingons confirm their readiness, Sir," Ensign Carstairs reported.

"Engines ready for warp, Captain," Commander Veeringen's voice echoed tinnily from her omnitool.

"Commander Goodenough, take the ship to warp. Ensign Carstairs, signal our allies to follow."

"Lieutenant Ca'elia," the Commander leaned forward. "Warp Seven."

"Warp Seven, aye!"

The ship elongated and rushed ahead, stars turning to the streaks of warp drive. Abebech watched the tactical display adjust, and confirm that the Klingons had followed them to warp.

"I'll let you know when to cloak, but probably not until the next watch," she observed. "All's well, Commander." With that, the ever-enigmatic woman returned to her sea cabin.

* * *

Anastasia Héen had been true to her word. By 0400 a small independent trader was cleared ready at the spaceport, and Fei'nur had started pulling together the last of the team for them to meet at the transporter room and beam down to take control of it. Arterus and Daria both resorted to Niltox to deal with the Mandatory Fun excesses of the Klingon feasting and make sure they were in top form for the flight, administered by a Nah'dur who had given herself a dose first.

"Have fun with Fei'nur!" She had shouted as they departed, leaving both of them to stare at each other.

When they got to the transporter room Arterus couldn't help but ask, "Colonel, is there a reason that the Surgeon-Commander brings you up every time she possibly can?"

"I have known her family a very long time, Lieutenant." she replied, giving him a steady expression back that discouraged further inquiry.

"That would explain it, yes," he acknowledged without further questioning. A Rihannsu knew not to press on matters of family, privately held. Also her look was quite intimidating. "Are we all ready?"

"We are. Transporter Chief, beam us down."

"Aye-aye, Colonel."

With that, the party disappeared from the _Huáscar_ and reappeared at the spaceport. Fei'nur headed up to the entrance of the rental office with Arterus, who was asked to display his identification documents as an Alliance officer to prove his fitness to operate the freighter, while Fei'nur signed the financial surety documents.

She grimaced at seeing the estimated total replacement cost of the freighter. _This is as bad as signing for the Marine TOE on taking command! Reasonable wear and tear of furnishings? We're taking this on a covert mission, not an ore-hauling run!_

In particular was a section of the terms which specifically placed Fei'nur or the Government liable for _Loss or Casualty in Employment for Operations of War, Marque or Reprisal on the behest of Government officers or officials thereof_ and enjoined the vessel from being so issued except as requisition of the appropriate authorities.

Fei'nur quietly sent that one up to Captain Zhen'var, unsure whether she counted as 'appropriate authorities'.

The message back was; _If the Alliance won't back us, the Warmaster will._

 _Gods, but I shall hope she does not have to. Thank you, Captain._

Fei'nur and Arterus finished signing and verifying documents, and then they were given the two-factor authentication chits and codes and the entire group was allowed into the secured area of the spaceport to pick up a 95-meter long freighter, much longer than it was wide, with a line of cargo pods down the sides and a forward control section and two old-style round warp nacelles.

"Well… it will do." Her eyes scanned down both flanks, noting the old dents and scars of a long star-faring life. "Board and inspect her stem to stern, report any deficiencies, and prepare to lift off." With two Engineering chiefs and two shuttle pilots as the 'crew' alongside Arterus as well as a squad of Marines, there wasn't exactly a deep bench to operate the vessel, but fortunately it was highly automated, and they started their checks. Daria had enough qualifications to join in.

Once she boarded, Fei'nur went straight to the small bridge and glanced around. "Remember, we are an independent trader, act accordingly to all we encounter. Store uniforms and identifying equipment ready to hand but out of plain view."

They started changing into mufti and finishing pre-flight on the trip. Arterus looked positively rakish in the trousers and white dress blouse he had selected and Daria took Dorei robes. Then they finished the positive pre-flight. "Permission to request take-off permission?" Daria asked to Fei'nur, lightly and bemused, hoping to be on more even ground with her.

"Oh, go ahead, my experience with piloting consists of crashing shuttles." The commando wore a simple spacer's jumpsuit, with masses of pockets and loops. She seemed far less strict and military, more like a grizzled old rogue of a free trader than the Fei'nur the Huáscar knew.

"Aye-Aye, Colonel!" With that, they requested permission and rose into orbit.

As they did, Stasia took over and directed them like any other trader away from the military ships and on their outbound warp trajectory. The warmth in her voice, however, she could not hide. "Merchant _Vanir,_ this is Huáscar Actual. Bon voyage and safe travels. You are cleared for warp."

* * *

Back on the _Huáscar,_ Elia's watch ended and she went over to the Captain's Ready Room, knowing that Zhen'var would be in the cubbyhole of a sea cabin accessible through it, off duty and winding down herself. She chimed the door. "Captain, permission to enter?"

"Granted." Came through the speaker, the woman in bed, working on a pad as she leaned back against the bulkhead, glancing up. Once the door closed, she would offer; "Elia, replicator is yours as usual."

"Thank you. Is there anything you want as well?" Elia turned to the replicator. "Tea, traditional Guernsey, and a crab sandwich," she instructed, using the voice activated feature to avoid issues with her gloves.

"Zhen'var Six." She winked, leaning back with a sigh of tiredness.

"Zhen'var Six," Elia added, and brought the plates and cuppa over to Zhen'var's bed, sitting on it with her and arranging them on the nightstand next to it. "You look simultaneously exhausted and as comfortable as I can possibly imagine."

"I think it is a Dilgar thing, honestly. I would rig a hammock if it would not cause comment."

"Hang the comments," Elia said, sipping from her cup. "I mean, really."

"Do we even _have_ one in the Requisition Portal? I admit I have not looked."

"You could spend some of your salary on it, you know. It's not like us officers and gentlewomen have much else to spend it on."

Zhen'var gave her a _look_. "Counting the parts I do not donate, that… is a true statement, Elia. Granted, shipping is another matter." She shook her head, and put down the datapad, carefully sliding it under her pillow.

"Oh gods, I'll just buy it for you then." Elia grinned wryly. "The Earth Alliance froze my trust fund, but there's a hypothetical chance I'll get it back." She leaned back with Zhen'var, close enough to cuddle, albeit through clothes and blankets. But that was still close by telepath standards.

"Oh, hush, I shall buy a hammock! Please, I make more than you, and the replicator means my victuals do not cost more!"

"Fair." Elia stretched. "I'm sorry about how hard things were for me lately. And if I maybe pressed telepath solidarity a bit hard when we intervened at Zeon."

"I do not think so. Nobody _else_ does, so someone has to push it all the harder, and telepaths do not know what to make of mother and I."

"I just call you decent people," Elia shrugged and rubbed her supplely gloved hands together. "I hope Artesia is okay. I'm looking forward to having her onboard in some capacity."

"Oh, Divine, yes, she will be wonderful to have aboard! Though I do not think she will end up with her own winged eye, I have put in the formal request to have her assigned aboard once she finishes training - and I have put in a low-priority request to ensure she is alright after the attacks."

"I'd have trouble seeing the woman who stood her ground and escaped from a disintegrating O'Neill cylinder could be hurt in what went down. And more seriously, there's no training facilities for transfer officers on Gersal or New Eden. She'll do marvelously." Elia ducked her head. "I just wish I could get through to Abebech, too."

"Give it time, Elia. She has likely seen a great deal, and it will take _time_. A very long time, until she is willing to share her demons."

"She's probably got a lot. The universe she comes from is, by all accounts, virtually insane, and telepaths-espers-have a freighted reputation there. I've read everything I can on the Earthreign, and pretty much it all just boils down to 'it was a totalitarian dictatorship of espers and it was terrible', with no proof and all the evidence lost to the ages. Kind of hard to conceive of a humanity spacefaring for four thousand years, too. It's just, you know, any telepath I know should be insane from being that walled off and isolated."

"All you can do is be open to it, and let her know that when-ever, _if_ she wants to let down her walls, you are there."

Elia nodded gently. "I know. Sometimes, though, she seems dreadfully scary. Dare I, as a professional naval officer, say that about a woman I respect and want to be friends with."

"Friends can be scary." Zhen'var mockingly bared her teeth in the most predatory face she could.

The telepath could only giggle, though, burying her face against Zhen'var's shoulder. "For all I know you are actually a predator and that could actually be intimidating, in my best friend, I'm afraid it doesn't have that effect!"

"Hrmph, I shall have to gnaw on you to regain my intimidating factor." She yawned widely.

"Oh gods." Elia was shaking her head from the intensity of her laughter. "Well, surely this has been quite the mission. I admit I feel a little bad about sending one team and the _Heermann_ off and us just sitting around at condition yellow getting exhausted, finding new ways to get a bruise on a hatch combing, and ordering freighters around."

The Dilgar woman gave her a _look_. "Elia Saumarez, you know _far better_ than to _tempt fate_ by saying such things."

"I'm an eighteenth century British naval officer, reincarnated!" She answered. "I want glory and prize money, clearly."

"You picked the wrong Navy... Though, you know, our regulations _do_ have prize money rules? I will have to see if we could work anything out here." A shake of her head. "Was this a social visit, then, or have I side tracked you from the original purpose?"

"No, no original purpose. It was bothering me at an emotional level, not a professional one."

"Then, here, try a dumpling." She picked one up off her plate with a smirk. "My first efforts at culinary fusion!"

"...Okay." Elia reached for a tissue and used it to daintily take it from her friend's hand and deposit it in her mouth. "Mmnn… What the heck is this? It tastes Indian, but the dumpling is very Dilgar."

"Well, I was trying to come up with a way of eating cleanly at my desk, so I took _toin_ flour dumplings and put rogan josh in them." She looked quite pleased.

"...Gods, that's _genius._ No wonder this tastes so good." Zhen'var's eyes had lit up.

"I cannot wait to surprise Nah'dur with some. She may claim they are not authentic, but if _I_ am the one making it… how can it not be?"

"The terrifyingly cute thing is that Nah'dur will probably admit the argument is logical and agree it's authentic…" Elia impulsively, and quickly, hugged Zhen'var. "I should let you sleep."

The woman flushed hotly under her fur, though she gave a smile. "You should, _but…_ " The effect of the teasing was ruined by another wide-mouthed yawn.

Elia laughed brightly. "If the Almighty or the Old Gods or Fate or Dharma or whatever hadn't made me straight, I'd _totally_ be interpreting that a certain way, Zhen'var."

"Just for that, you are helping me rig the hammock I am about to figure out how to replicate, Elia!" She was laughing as she said it, rolling off the bed to her feet.


	21. Episode 4 Act 4

**Act 4**

As they raced toward the anticipated location of their ambush, the _Heermann,_ on schedule, with the Klingon ships in loose formation around her, made a final adjustment to her course. Then, at Goodenough's order, they proceeded to cloak. With comms silent, the final course correction to keep them together and on track would have to be sufficient to put them all in the right place at the right time, able to properly engage their target.

A few minutes Abebech came up onto the bridge, drinking from a mug of coffee. The _Heermann_ 's commander was as calm as she could ever be as she went to half-sit and half-lean against one of the bridge railings, regarding the bridge crew sharply. For a moment, behind those sunglasses, she said nothing, and just regarded her crew.

Ca'elia glanced at the repeater at her station occasionally, trying to keep her own situational awareness current.

"Officers of the _Heermann,_ " Abebech started softly, "I need you to be ready to act with absolute decision. Any failure will potentially lead to the loss of the slaves. The Orions are known to eliminate 'cargo' to hide the evidence, and furthermore there is the risk that the ill-ordered militia we are fighting with would accidentally destroy the ship while trying to cripple it. The Klingon regulars would not, but these are house troops."

She took a swig of her coffee. Sometimes, it seemed to be the only thing that Abebech consumed. "So, here we are. We need to have an action plan to open the shields of the enemy, destroy their warp drive, in short order. We have tactical guides for most of the usual Orion fast smugglers and pirate ships of the type used to run sapient cargo. We will let our friends begin the ambush-and then we must finish it with a single blow. We need to ignore the rush at the start of the battle, and then decloak and put everything into weapons for a single precise blow. This will require careful coordination of helm and weapons."

Abebech used her omnitool to bring a _Wanderer-_ class blockade runner up. With weapons pods amidship and two massive warp drives, the ship looked like a sleek, fast compromise between classical Klingon and Federation design methodologies, 195 meters long, 66 meters wide and 19 meters high. "Two twin phaser emitters, two twin photon torpedo launchers. 9,000 tons of cargo and up to 1,800 slaves. Crew of 102. The premier Orion ship. Warp Factor Eight maximum cruise, more for short duration. Do we know this is what they're using? No, but it's what we need to prepare our battle-plan against."

"We likely manoeuvre better, Captain, but the weapons pods, is that armament the base, or what our _target_ has…?" Ca'elia asked from her station, eyes expressively pensive.

"It is what our target should have, L'tenant. Each pod with two phasers and two photon torpedo tubes, L'tenant. This means we must bear in mind their firing arcs when targeting them. What is the best angle to take them from, in your assessment, guns?"

Abdulmajid shrugged. "Ahh, Captain, certainly one of the aft quarters, where their warp drives mask their firing arcs and yet still allow us to fire upon our target, of course the warp drives."

"That would also, however, keep us from directly targeting their weapons. How can we fix that to make sure that they don't induce the Klingons into destroying them?"

"Aft ventral, ma'am, it keeps us out of the forward arcs and gives us both our primary targets, though we would not be able to strike the bridge as a result. Hmm. Directly above, then! We could hit all three primary targets!"

"It does however mean that the enemy can concentrate all of his weapons against us," Abebech mused.

"Not quite," Goodenough shook his head. "Captain, the turning radius of an accelerating photon torpedo is not small. If we decloak close enough in, they can only engage us with phasers, not torpedoes."

"I can get us inside that arc, ma'am." Ca'elia's confidence was resolute.

"Then that's our plan." Abebech looked sharply at the helmswoman for a moment, and then smiled. "That you well. All right, it'll be another two hours. Stand ready, and don't let yourselves get bored."

* * *

Onboard the freighter, Arterus was getting Viinerine from the replicator, setting the dish down on the table, when Fei'nur came in. He stood up again. "Colonel. Getting dinner yourself, Ma'am?"

"Remember, freighter crew." came from her as she went to the replicator, tapping in a code and moving to sit with a mixture of unidentified meats-on-a-stick. "But I am, Lieutenant."

"I remember, but if they're recording inside of our mess, Colonel, we surely have more problems than some silence can help us with."

"Heh, a true enough statement." She moved to sit, pulling out her pad and tapping a text up upon it. "All well with the ship, then, no further messages from your cousin?"

"No, she hasn't gotten anything else out," Arterus answered, a bit nervously. "I wish I could hurry us along faster, but I know it is not possible. Still, our bond-and she is my rightful Empress. I could only die for her, and that would not be enough. I have a feeling that though you do not know Mnhei'sahe, though, you understand that, and its principles, well enough."

"If the Imperium had and followed such a concept, we would be a great power." She shrugged, and turned back to her pad. "We will make it soon enough, and we will rescue her, no matter how many I must kill along the way. I have my own rightful Woman-Emperor."

"You do, Colonel? I did not know…. As much as I feel humbled that you think the Ruling Passion of the Rihannsu might have let you stand against the humans in your own universe. Many a Rihannsu would think so as well, but I was trying to avoid being so presumptuous."

"We lacked a unifying force, a concept to make venal men act towards the greater good. The Supreme Warmaster _tried_ , his student tried as well, and they could get the front to support them, but others feared and envied, and stabbed them in the back."

"We have had such venality ourselves, many times. My family only created a true Imperial throne upon the Empty Chair because of it. We lost our throne because of it. But, I admit, though it pains me so, we have an Empire now, and you do not. The humans and their 'federation' certainly tried very hard to remove it from us, and in the end, had to abandon their effort."

"We did ill things, though we would have drowned the stars in blood to survive. At the end, it was only to survive free that we were fighting. We live, however, and that must be made sufficient." It was a quite intellectual statement which reminded Arterus of the hidden depths of the Last Spectre.

"The Rihannsu, The Declared, fled Vulcan with only a few ships, to hold to our traditions and customs. Our Empire was built by those who fled their home. Perhaps, in parts, we may have much in common, Colonel. Battlemaster."

"You merely escaped soon enough to be able to _rebuild_ before foes found you. The Dilgar have no such luck."

"You will always have a friend in me, Colonel, for this day, and for the moral spirit of knowing that we might have walked the same road you did. Yet, I am Rihannsu, and long-lived. With some luck and help from the Elements, I will still be here in a hundred and seventy years. I have a feeling that I will yet see great and proud Dilgar fleets, before my eyes close and my name is given to the memory of the undying Stars."

"Well, one can hope. Even so, that does… well, we shall see." She had started to say something, then decided it did not have to be said, not yet. "Lieutenant." Her plate had been demolished, and she moved to place it in the recycler. "We will be there soon enough."

"Live fast, fly high, fight hard, die well, Colonel." He rose, as well.

"I have no need to do the first two, and I hope the fourth waits a while yet." She gave a small, closed-lip smile back, with a sharp nod.

"It is an old benediction of the fleet, Colonel," Arterus offered softly. "Mnhei'sahe to you." He stepped out for his bunk. Not much longer, indeed.

* * *

The _Heermann_ was at stations, and most of the crew was too nervous to do anything else. They had reached their position and were standing by under cloak, with six Klingon Birds-of-Prey presumably standing off nearby. There might be eighteen hundred slaves on the ship they were waiting for-or none at all. Either way, they would send a message by taking it.

Under law, Abebech should decloak, declare that she had evidence the enemy was slaving, and demand them to heave-to and submit to inspection. She had no intention of doing that in the slightest. The Klingons were going to handle that part for her. And if they broke the rules, well… They were her allies, and she would act to protect them anyway. Enforcing the rules on Klingon houses was not her business.

"Captain, vessel detected," Goodenough's voice snapped across the bridge. "Approaching on the expected vector, Warp Six."

"Helm, try to get us a bit above their projected vector." They were the bottom of the bag, the tail of a reverse-V strung out through open space. Abebech knew there was no chance to be exact with the uncertainties involved in when they would drop out of warp under warp strafing attack from the Klingons.

"Trying to get us above their projected vector, aye aye, Captain." Ca'elia called out, hands dancing over the helm console.

Goodenough watched intently for the first sign of it, straining at the sensor outputs. The computer delivered the result... "Captain! Decloaking signatures…"

"Stand by to transfer power to weapons!" Abebech raised a gloved hand.

Abel's disembodied voice came from engineering. "All power ready for weapons banks… Standing by."

The group of six Klingon Birds of Prey collectively outmatched the _Wanderer_ already as they decloaked in front of it. The Orion suddenly found itself moving into a trap at Warp Six, and violently de-accelerated as a swarm of six photon torpedoes converged on it. The Klingons had not even provided warning.

Abebech politely grimaced. If there _wasn't_ an evidence of a slave trade onboard, then there would be a considerable number of questions asked by OIG, even though this was very much the decision of the Klingons, since running silent they had had no communications and no prospect of them. She watched silently as the torpedoes inexorably spun toward their target and slammed in a slew of staggered impacts into the Orion and her shields began to collapse.

They had agreed to attack the ship, there was no worrying about it. She brought her hand down. "Transfer power to weapons, Helm, finalise position! Weapons, stand by to fire…"

The _Heermann_ followed the Klingons into wavering into view, 'tipping' down from above. "Guns, pitching in two… one… now!" Helm called out across the bridge to her compatriot who would have to be ready for the attitude shift.

Guns finished locking on, and with the usual muttered invocation to Allah, Abdulmajid opened fire as the _Heermann_ finished appearing. The battle was sudden, sharp, and over in moments. The forward batteries stitched through one of the warp drives after the first torpedoes had battered down the shields.

As they did, a second burst of fire was directed against the weapons pods. The guns of the _Wanderer-_ class ship were still firing on the Klingons. The pulse of light from the _Heermann_ put a quick end to half of that fire, a beam striking a Bird of Prey cutting off in mid-charge as one of the pods was squarely struck. Stitched with fire from end to end and wreathed in explosions and plasma, it was left crumpled and black.

"Good shooting, Lieutenant Mehmet, keep it up!"

The Orion ship shifted fire to the _Heermann,_ phasers lashing out but torpedoes, thanks to Ca'elia's sharp manoeuvring, unable to bear upon her tormenter. With shields still down from the total concentration of energy to weapons after decloaking, the _Heermann_ lurched, hard, even from the twin phaser hits on her armour.

"Keep firing!" Abebech ordered, ignoring the damage reports, there was no time for them yet. "Shields up!"

The _Heermann_ 's main battery lashed out again, and the second pod fell silent as it too was wreathed in plasma, the _Wanderer_ type ship tumbling from several more Klingon torpedo hits. Ca'elia then completed a leisurely sweep around, a second lashing by the Orion phasers having been averted.

Abebech looked at her omnitool. "All over in three minutes. Goodenough, have you told the Klingons to prepare boarding parties?"

"Yes, Captain. Commander Klarak confirms that they are preparing to beam aboard."

"You have the bridge, Commander Goodenough. L'tenant Ca'elia, with me, please. I don't trust Klingons with liberated slaves."

There was a momentary flash of surprise from the young Dilgar woman, before she jumped to her feet. "Yes ma'am!" She was already grabbing her service pistol and belt from where she stashed them by her station in action.

"Very good. Right this way…" She worked on her omnitool as she rose. "Lieutenant Veeringen, ship status?"

"No critical systems hit, Captain! Just a few good chunks from the armour."

Visibly excited, the helmswoman fell in beside her both intimidating and inspiring Captain, beaming internally at having been chosen for a boarding action personally.

"Normally I'd never do this, but the _Heermann_ only has a very small detachment on it," Abebech explained, "In which case, I am really the least likely to come to harm aboard-and you the second."

Corporal Gar'akh with his squad of Marines and two Security personnel, the entire complement, led by PO Annette Jervis, were formed up and waiting for them.

She would finish strapping on light body armour picked up at the arms locker on the way, a rifle slung over her shoulder, knowing time was very short indeed, before giving her "Ready, Captain!"

"Transporter Chief, beam us over!" Privately, of course, Abebech was quite willing to make sure they _found_ their evidence. Anyone with a large ship of the _Wanderer_ type was involved in the slave trade. But rationally, and unfortunately, it was very unlikely there would be a _need._

The good news was that it had unfolded exactly as she had wished. No battle, just an _execution._ Short, boring, and predictable. The more often that happened, the more she was reassured that she wasn't losing her touch.

* * *

The world of Terramka was one of the countless small worlds of the Triangle, the origin for the name was uncertain, the history murky. Settled by hardy Rihannsu farmers of ch'Havran stock, they were isolated from the Empire, and had liked it that way. They kept to their profession, and plied it honestly, trading food to other worlds of the Triangle. A few times the Empire had exerted sway over the world, but never permanently or long enough to change it.

It had many old cultural customs straight out of t'Rehu's time. It was a natural place for Lial to have gone to ground. And now they had arrived, their freighter receiving a parking orbit and settling into it as if nothing was amiss. There was clearly just one bored ground station without much effort to establish a coordination or customs operation.

Arterus rose from his position at the conn. "Daria, how is the FEDC hookup coming?"

"Almost finished," she answered, working with Corporal Tir'mar. The FEDC, or Field Expedient Detection Computer, was meant to hook up to standard civilian sensors. When it did, it would analyze the interference patterns in these sensors statistically, and based on information the user entered on the nature of the sensors and their specifications, the system would construction a simulation of the sensor output which was (with a high statistical probability) more accurate than the actual output from the sensor's own processing software, turning interference into additional layers of detail.

Fei'nur leaned against a back wall, finding the lack of a command chair almost more normal for a freighter, given the few she had been on, looking nothing more than a very rough, roguish trader captain still. "You know what you are looking for."

"I know the location of her farm, yes," Arterus answered.

"Once you have a tactical picture, as much of one as we can get, I will be ready to beam down in five minutes." Fei'nur pushed herself off the bulkhead.

"It's producing data!" Daria reported. "Just another minute to home in on the location of the house and process the data there on the highest resolution that can be inferred from the ship's sensor grid."

"Well, not much longer, then," Arterus answered. He stood rigidly poised, ready to go in spirit. "Colonel… What of the matter of uniforms?"

"None visible. Under civilian clothing, if one wishes, otherwise, insignia and arm-bands that may be put on if violence erupts. We are not _seeking_ a full-scale fight, one may just find us." Fei'nur was a very _practical_ woman.

"Alright, Colonel."

"Confirmed, Battlemaster!" Tir'mar saluted. "I will turn the troops out now, Ma'am."

"Very well. I shall meet you in the transporter room. Our intention is first to rescue, second to gain intelligence, third escape, fourth, damage those who mean Alliance interests harm. Plan accordingly."

"Understood," Arterus affirmed.

"Colonel, we've got an issue," Daria squinted at the portable holo-projector of the FEDC. "Looks there might have been energy weapons signatures in the area."

Arterus' face lost all expression.

"Recent?" Fei'nur had paused, her face growing still. "Lieutenant, did she have protection, or was she relying on her own weapons?"

"She was by herself, Colonel," Arterus answered stiffly. "Let us go quickly, for I must see through one matter or another."

* * *

Materialising on the Orion ship, Abebech moved quickly with Ca'elia at her side and the squad moving along behind her and spreading out into fire teams to cover as much ground as possible. In the end, all they did was start zip-tying Orions as they surrendered.

The Syndicate had no problems with surrendering, as long as persons doing so did not reveal any secrets of the Syndicate or cut deals with prosecution. They would guarantee cushy jobs on release and support of families in return, which was part of what made the Syndicate so hard to crack and a multi-generational threat.

In this case, it was a relief from the moment of the first surrender, because it meant they were more likely to find slaves aboard. A simple warlord transiting high value cargoes in ships would have certainly had a crew _more_ willing to fight than the slavers, not less. As Abebech personally snapped some zip-ties into place, she switched to Dilgar to speak with Ca'elia. "Our chances of finding slaves in the hold increase. Orions are honourable to fight, unless in the Syndicate. There they know their families will be well treated; they will surrender in preference to death, but they will never give up the Syndicate's secrets."

"Unless the Mha'dorn do the asking, ma'am." Ca'elia replied, her weapon in hand as she kept watch over her Captain, trying to keep in front of her when she advanced into the ship.

"You are right," Abebech agreed conversationally. "Also, I could. Could you scout ahead, please?"

The Orion prisoner looked up in some concern. There was _something_ in Abebech's tone, too casual for the circumstance by far, carrying through even an alien tongue.

"Of course, ma'am." Ca'elia crouched low, and moved forward, as quiet as she could be in duty boots as she peeked around the corner and moved further into the ship towards the cargo bays.

Ca'elia met up with the Klingons. One of them jerked up from where he had stood, repeatedly kicking an Orion down on the ground. "This cur won't fight, Alliancer," he remarked, spitting on the man in contempt. "They are slavers, the real Orion soldiers at least know how to _fight_!"

"Then it is not worth the effort to kill him. We will have someone to interrogate him later." Her eyes were relatively pitiless. Slavers were an object of hatred of _any_ good naval - or police - officer.

"Klingons do not bother with interrogations…"

"Then I will handle it." Abebech caught up, as composed as ever. She was still tugging a glove back into place, though. "Thank you, Warrior, do carry on securing more Orions in your very efficient manner. Two decks down, L'tenant. Concentrate the squads there, we have the ship. You'll want to take corridor L5R2, the other ones have been sealed."

"Yes, Captain!" Ca'elia stiffened, and moved off to gather more members of the boarding parties to press into the cargo bays. As she stormed along with a group of Klingons and Marines, bypassing resistance and rushing their way into the bays. The time taken to gather the squads meant Abebech had caught up with her again.

They were just in time to see a massive, muscular Green Orion shoving a lithe, light human woman still in chains and tattered club dancing garments into a featureless box. He looked up with shock at their arrival, barking a command. Another Orion from further down the corridor leveled a disruptor as the first reached to throw a lever on the side of the box.

It was the first time anyone from the crew of the _Heermann,_ let alone the _Huáscar,_ had seen Abebech Imra actively using telepathy. The first Orion's eyes involuntarily went wide as the hand froze, and then withdrew from the lever.

Ca'elia's rifle spat fire, as she snapped stun fire off at the second one with the disruptor. "Forward Marines, _quickly_! They are trying to disintegrate the slaves!" Even as she said it, she was bounding ahead, darting like a bolt of lightning from cover to cover.

The man who had been reaching for the lever dropped to the floor and began to uncontrollably twitch. Then he stopped. Commander Imra stepped over to the console, driving a heel into his body and then rifling through his pockets for a particular chit she had already identified. She inserted that, and then raised his hand. Quick work with a vibro-dagger located in one boot severed a hand and she pressed it against the console.

Ahead of them, the remaining Orions fell back before the precipitous attack. They abandoned forcing the slaves into the disintegration chambers and turned their total attention to Ca'elia, the Marines and the Klingons. What they weren't prepared for was the rolling series of flash-bangs which led the way with Ca'elia close enough to be rattled by them herself, but carrying on like a dancer from cover to cover as she dropped Orion after Orion.

Accessing the system with the chit she had identified and the fingerprints of the dead Orion, Abebech opened the doors to the disintegration chambers and deactivated the power to them, engaging the maintenance safety locks instead. Then she grabbed the handle on the wall which was the manual control to make sure they were not accidentally activated, and while nobody was looking, coolly ripped the tritanium arm from its brace while set in the off position.

With a sudden stop, leaving her almost confused, Ca'elia came up short at the end bulkhead to the cargo bays, breathing hard as she looked back. _How have I gotten so far head…?_ Everything before that felt so much like a blur, as she called out; "Sweep back, secure the prisoners, get a seal on this hatch!"

"You heard the Lieutenant, move it!" Gar'akh repeated. The Dilgar and human marines spread out as the Klingons finished off their kills with their blades.

Dusting off her gloves, Abebech turned and looked down the corridor lined with slave pens. She gave a sharp, crisp nod to Ca'elia from a distance. "Smart work, L'tenant!"

"Ma'am! I intend to get the medics in and start getting them somewhere more psychologically safe!"

"Do it. Get Doctor Foru and all of the medical staff onboard to start processing them."

The slaves were too brutalised to fight back. Barely realised they had been freed. Dazed, collared. But with a kind of clinical detachment, Abebech was quite well aware the Green Orion that she had killed and partially dismembered _also_ had a collar; they were much better treated than common slaves, but many of the syndicate's slave overseers were themselves slaves. Such was the way of the multiverse.

It was a way Lieutenant Ca'elia still had to learn, but for now, she had made some small shift of the cosmic scales, and that little blow against the fate Abebech was so experienced with would have to do. The woman stepped from line to line with a forced welcoming expression on her face, taking pictures to document for evidence against the living crewers as she communicated via omnitool to coordinate the beam-ins.

And then Abebech delivered a nice bowl square at her psyche, a metaphorical ball she hadn't been expecting at all. "Once the medical staff is aboard and this area is secure, L'tenant, I want you to assemble your prize crew."

Green eyes widened, first in surprise, then in utter, overwhelming joy. "Yes, Captain, I shall at once! Thank you ma'am!"

* * *

Beaming down to the site of the farm, Arterus was confronted by the sight of a burning barn. A small group of figures were clustered around the small estate house, and one was kneeling over another, stretched upon the ground. Then he didn't see much more, as Daria knocked him into the ground, and just in time. The sizzling flash of a crew-served disruptor cannon tore through the air where he had been standing as the support weapon crew covering the team at the house opened fire.

Arterus grunted and dragged his rifle forward into the ready while remaining prone. "Thank you, Daria!"

"Just doing my job! Merciful Goddess, they aren't messing around." She edged forward on her belly, waving to the fire-team behind her, the beam cutting above them again and again. The Tal Shiar near the house had now gone prone behind cover themselves.

Then the second fire-team hit the disruptor cannon from the flank. Fei'nur had taken no chances and had made sure that the teams were beamed into separate groups providing interlocking cover for their landing positions. They might not be in uniform and this might technically be illegal (of course, so were the Tal Shiar), but the Tal Shiar wouldn't care and they would know they were fighting professionals.

The air was rent with the tearing of disruptor beams and the chatter of the Alliance pulse rifles. A complicated squad engagement had evolved within seconds thanks to transporter technology. Daria knew that as long as that disruptor was in action they wouldn't be working their way closer to the house. So she forged ahead, leading Arterus and the fireteam toward the cannon, so that both parts of the squad were converging on it.

This left the Tal Shiar by the house free to manoeuvre, but they had either wounded or a prisoner and so only a small group set out. In response, each time one of the Alliance marines stopped from Daria's group, they sprayed suppressing fire on the Tal Shiar by the house to slow them down and keep them low. Taking them out right now didn't matter, just keeping them from getting close enough to reinforce the fight around the disruptor.

"Elements, we're really in it now!" Arterus gritted. He'd been through the basic ground combat training like all Alliance officers, but he wasn't a tactical specialist like Daria who was making hand-signs and with quick barked orders was managing to coordinate both fireteams despite what was clearly jamming from the Tal Shiar.

"Oh, come on!" Daria laughed. "They could always have a mortar, too!" She spat a clod of dirt out of her mouth that had worked its way in when she had hit the deck a second time after rising to give signals. "We've _got 'em,_ unless reinforcements show up. It'll just take another ten minutes. But Fei'nur…"

She trailed off. As it was, nobody had even died or been (probably) wounded in this little engagement, which wasn't unusual, at all. Sometimes, her words seemed cursed, as they did now, for her long ears were letting her hear the whining noise of anti-gravs, and they warned her that their tactical situation was about to change, and not at all in the way she'd expected. "Goddess, we need Fei'nur."

The source of the whine swung into view down a dusty dirt drive up to the house. It was a local vehicle, of course, a farm ute, a utility hover-vehicle for carrying cargo and people and supplying power to a winch and hoist and lights, the Tal Shiar would never bring anything identifiable with them on an operation like this. But Daria could see how the attachment points for barrels and panels of scrap steel were too cute by half, the cages for raising fowl in were cleverly pinned to the sides. It might be look like an overloaded farm hauler, but it had been carefully uparmoured as a technical using local supplies, by a professional military engineer experienced at doing such things. Of course, now that there was another figure crewing a disruptor in the bed, there was no doubt at all.

A green beam cut across the space of Daria's head and again a tingling warming made her drop low and flat. _We need to find some kind of depression to work our way through, they can almost depress to hit us on the ground!_ The scream and chatter of weapons fire seemed to come from every direction.

Through the grass, she could only see in fragments what happened next. The hover ute rolled up to the farm and a group of Tal Shiar rushed for it to board. As they did, a demolition charge appeared from nowhere and went tumbling through the air to land inside the cab of the Ute with its open door. A moment later a tremendous white-hot flash seared at her eyes and then the explosion followed.

They were trained to let no advantage no matter how sudden or unexpected go to waste. The Corporal leading the fire team that had the left flank of the disruptor's position lunged up and hurled a Dilgar stick grenade into the disruptor cannon's position. Another flash and resounding crack split the clear blue sky and then the team of Dilgar and Humans were up and lunging with their rifles at the ready, charging the distance behind a follow-up curtain of four more grenades crashing down, the fragments of their own explosions flecking off the armour worn under their civilian clothes.

As they cleared the little earthen parapet, there was no time to stop and communicate. The first of the troopers, the Dilgar corporal Tir'mar, levelled his rifle and held the trigger as a continuous stream of charges swept the Tal Shiar knocked about in the dirt of the position. A moment later nothing was moving.

Daria led her troop up and down, swinging through the grass at a dead run. By the house, bodies toppled with blood flying as an invisible blade sliced through veins and arteries and severed hands from arms, hard-by to the burning wreck of the Ute. One of the remaining Tal Shiar, throwing caution for her allies to the wind, raised a disruptor on wide beam, full-charge, at the invisible figure's rough position.

The Agent never caught a chance to fire; there was a single, even to a Dorei barely audible, dull flat crack from the woods down by the creek. The Tal Shiar woman toppled and Fei'nur finished the remainder of their opposition.

Daria raised her hand in a universal stop gesture as one of the Dilgar started to raise a rifle to the figure that emerged from the woods with an old-style wooden stock, scoped hunting piece, the bulged graymetal tank at the back showing that it was pneumatic. A tiny tritanium tank could store plenty of air.

There was a profound silence over the little battlefield. Only the roaring of the barn fire interrupted it, and that guaranteed that any lesser noise like the moaning of the wounded, if there were any, was unheard. They had fought for easily ten or fifteen minutes without any result, and then in the space of a minute the entire thing had been decided. That was battle, farcical and cautious in one turn and a bloodthirsty feast of death in another, and then, silence. Eternities for tension, and brief moments for the killing, often absolutely lopsided when decided.

The figure that had come out of the wooded verge of the creek was now close enough to be made out. She wore farmer's clothes and a rifle slung confidently over the shoulder, with a long wave of dark hair loosely pulled back.

Arterus let out a cry of pure joy and relief, though he did not start down the hill or otherwise break ranks.

Lial t'Rllaillieu raised her hand in a solemn salute and spoke in Rihan. " _Hail, cousin! The Elements laugh with your timing, who is your fair-speckled friend of a foreign star?"_

Arterus safed his rifle and slung it over a shoulder. "Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv, cousin, the Tactical officer of the _Huáscar._ "

Daria was for a moment distracted by the fleeting remains of life in the wounded, before her head snapped around. "Your Highness. Arterus said he needed some help."

"He did," the Rihannsu heir agreed with a coy smile, "And I am thankful this help took the form of a squad of such crack shots. But you have a friend…"

"...It is secure now," Fei'nur said, shimmering into existence near them.

"..With a personal cloaking device. May I have an introduction?"

"Battlemaster Fei'nur, an Aide-de-Camp to the Dilgar Warmaster," Arterus offered.

"And your Marine Colonel," Lial laughed, "I did read your letters. But I understand the desire not to link this overmuch to the Alliance. Shall we be going?"

"Cousin, what of your…"

"Let's go, not enough time, we lack nothing," she interrupted him gently.

Fei'nur nodded, looking pleased. "It is time to go. Lieutenant Seldayiv, Corporal Angusson and your fireteam, cover the rest of us." She activated her omnitool as Daria paused, then waved her hand and moved away to create separation between the two groups.

"Seven to beam up."


	22. Episode 4 Act 5

**Act 5**

 _Heermann_ returned ahead of the rest of the ships, alone. She decloaked in the outer system and broadcast her recognition codes. This of course generated some real excitement, though the ship appeared undamaged. Commander Imra moved quickly to squash it, contacting Zhen'var directly and immediately.

Captain Zhen'var fielded the message from her sea cabin. "Commander Imra. Report."

"We found an Orion _Wanderer-_ class 'galleon' type. The Klingons attacked without warning, so we followed to support our allies out of necessity. I arranged care in disabling the ship to avoid injuries to any innocents aboard. We found five hundred and sixty-two slaves on boarding, there were probably more who were disintegrated by the Orions to hide their crimes, but that will have to wait for the forensics."

Zhen'var was straight up in her chair, eyes unblinking, expression rigid. "Where are the slaves and the Klingons, Commander?"

"Lieutenant Veeringen was able to repair her warp drive, so I placed L'tenant Ca'elia in command of a detached party with orders to bring her back, Ma'am. The Klingons are escorting with their slower warp drives. Since our main duty is defending this world, I hastened ahead to resume guard duties. The freed slaves are aboard the _Wanderer,_ for want of any better ship for that many. We placed the captives, there are a total of eighty-two, in their own slave pens for security on transport and to eliminate the risk of a rising against the L'tenant by the former crew. Thirty-eight of the Orion's crew were killed in the operation. We took four wounded, no fatalities. The Klingons didn't report their casualties to me."

"Very well, and thank you," Zhen'var answered. She quickly brought Commander Krodak up on a split screen. "Commander, our combined forces were victorious. The _Heermann_ supplied a prize crew for the Orion slaver and your squadron is intact and returning with her. Commander Imra just chose to race ahead in case we came under attack by the Nazi Reich, to see properly to the defence of Geisling."

"Ah, as our best hopes!" Krodak roared. "Very good then, well fought, Commander Imra." He clapped his hands together. "Captain Zhen'var, what of the prize, then?"

"Well, she is under one of my L'tenants."

"But we provided the most ships for her capture."

Zhen'var smiled toothily. "Well, here. We will meet face to face when she has arrived, and all the slaves are off of her and put safely ashore to Geisling, and then we will figure out her disposition."

"Very well. I will trust your honour to keep the ship in the system until then. Qapla'!"

The second screen blinked off, and Abebech shook her head and the two exchanged a grin. "What exactly are you planning, Captain?"

"Oh, let me try to make it happen before I tell you, Commander."

* * *

The little freighter returned to its home on Geisling without further trouble, though to avoid Geisling customs and biases regarding Rihannsu causing trouble for the Princess, she was beamed to the _Huáscar_ first. Zhen'var greeted her personally in the transporter room.

"Captain Zhen'var," the woman said. "Permission to come aboard?" She stood there, with her raven-dark hair now loose, her eyes sharp and thoughtful, her skin pale-to-olivine, wearing a farmer's jean-jacket and an old set of pinstriped heavy riding trousers, with a blouse under the jacket that might have once been under the jacket of a Rihannsu uniform. She was medium-tall with a sharp look, making no pretence about her Vulcanoid ears.

Even dusty and with several days in the same clothes, dressed like a country farmer back home or one of those inhabiting countless of the remote agricultural planets of the Triangle, she was immensely regal.

"Permission granted," Zhen'var answered with a sharp salute. "Your Majesty."

"Highness, let us not pretend I have ever sat the throne," Lial t'Rllaillieu answered. "You have my great affection for permitting my cousin to rescue me. I had hoped that would be my home for… If necessary, as long as I lived. But the Tal Shiar were not willing to permit me the peace and quiet.

"From what I understand of their reputation, they are nothing if not persistent, and a rightful title is the same, no matter who bears best claim to it." The Dilgar woman replied, calm in the face of the rebuke. "It does not serve Alliance interests for that line to fail, in my opinion. "You have freedom of the ship, with the usual caveats."

"Forgive me for being so blunt, Captain. I… A replicator ration would also be appreciated," she offered. "I am not sure what I will do next, truth be told. I wanted to live with other Rihannsu to keep my spirit close to the people of my mother and father, the people I ought to rule. But it is clear I could bring to them only war and death with such a vanity."

"There are some you should talk to, but before that… you have arrived just in time for an effort to give my crew some recreation from our operations tempo. I would be gratified if you would consent to come yourself."

"Thank you, Captain. I am honoured."

* * *

The next morning, the Orion prize arrived in the system. Showing the scars of her capture, she hove to after broadcasting recognition codes, and stood between Commander Krodak's D-7 and the _Huáscar_ in orbit.

Ca'elia commed the _Huáscar_ to report her arrival. Elia was on the watch on the other side. "Go ahead, Leftenant."

"Ma'am, Alliance vessel _Far Star_ under prize crew, requesting permission to enter orbit!" The newness and excitement still had not faded. "My details are on subchannel."

"Confirming standard orbit… Now. We are receiving subchannel," Elia replied. "Leftenant, Geisling Central Starport transporters will be directly coordinating transport of the Liberated to hospitals and halfway houses in the capital which have reserved bed space for evaluations and caregiving. Please organise with them accordingly."

"Understood, Commander! I will begin at once!"

"When the transports are complete, prepare the prize crew for transfer and bring the ship to standby. You will report aboard and give a full account of your independent command to Captain Zhen'var at that time." Informally, Elia raised her hand in salute.

"Ma'am!" Ca'elia returned it reflexively, then blinked off the pickup before she could realise she'd done it.

Elia looked at the screen for a minute and smiled fondly. "That woman is going places…"

* * *

Fei'nur, Daria and Arterus were in the Mess after returning to the ship when Lial arrived. As the Captain's guest she required permission, but Arterus rose to give it the moment he saw his cousin, and the Petty Officer in charge waved her in. She was wearing proper Rihannsu dress, practical breeches and broad-shouldered coat, for a lady of class relaxing for the evening in the company of others.

"Thank you for the kindness, officers," she offered before moving to sit with her cousin.

"Oh, I could have let you in even if they didn't wish it," Arterus said with a flicker of a smile.

"Perhaps, but it wouldn't have been wise," she nodded to Fei'nur with a bit of an insouciant grin.

"I let the Navy defend the honour of their mess." The colonel gave a nod of acknowledgement as flicker of amusement crossed her face, then she nonchalantly picked up another kebab.

"Well, I am a naval officer, though at the moment without a ship or a country," Lial replied ruefully.

"One lack is easier to repair than the other, Your Majesty." Fei'nur replied, after finishing her first bite. "Neither is impossible."

"It's so." She drummed her fingers for a moment. "I've heard of a universe where mercenaries are in high demand, for piloting giant robots. Perhaps I should head there, though it grieves my heart to think a Rllaillieu should be selling her sword."

"You are a naval officer. To sell your sword for _venal_ reasons, as those people fight in their robot suits, that, if you will permit the presumption, does not seem to satisfy mnhei'sahe. Dilgar, when we were weak, had our officers sell their swords to the Centauri, to gain knowledge, wealth, what we needed to gain strength relative to others. We serve with the Alliance in our weakness now. Are we untrue to ourselves in so doing?"

"No, you are not, Battlemaster. You also seem to imply there's something better for me. Or at least that I shouldn't join such a company."

"I do, and I think it would be unwise. It is a pity we cannot arrange you taking the _Far Star._ "

"...The _Far Star_? Is that the Orion you took for slaving?" Lial's eyes looked up. "A _Wanderer_ is not a poor ship, properly handled. The repairs would be expensive. I would need a crew…"

"There are many Rihannsu on the surface of Geisling who, though the human government has reformed, still feel left out of its society," Arterus offered to his cousin, his voice growing low and thoughtful. "You might find more, faster, than you expect."

"I have had an idea, haven't I?" Fei'nur blinked. "You would need to acquire title to the ship and a contract to allow repairs, if the crew can be found."

"The Captain and Commander Krodak haven't agreed to who gets the ship yet," Daria remarked. "Fei'nur, do you want to tell the Captain about this idea…?"

"That I am suggesting she give up her prize money?" For a moment, Fei'nur had a flicker of horror on her face at the idea, though it faded. Zhen'var was not an old-school Dilgar captain. "I believe I should, but it will go better if she is more familiar with Her Majesty. She is very much one for personal touches, our captain."

"Then I'll ask for a meeting after this…" She squinted. "Was the translator broken? Steel beach party?"

"A human custom. Think of it as a gathering for the crew aboard some open space on ship. Steel replaces the sand of a party on the shoreline. There will also be loud music and the inanity of the lower deck."

"Oh, but we'll have to go." She got a grin.

"For different reasons, yes. A bit yet, still. I am sure Lieutenant Ca'elia will keep a good watch over _Far Star_ until then."

* * *

A few days after the arrival of the _Far Star_ at Geisling, with the security situation relaxed to Readiness Posture Delta, the Marine operations hangar deck had been radically transformed for a very special occasion. A large number of temporary partitions had been set up into changing rooms. A group of a dozen HESCO bastions had been set up. The modern kind, using ballistic ceramoplastics, were waterproof, and these were the largest size, making lovely deep-water splash pools.

There was an Xtreme Dancing holo-pad, and a band cuing up on a stage. A massive line of smokers, BBQ grills and frying pans on field kitchen hot plates had been set up along one wall, with assault transports used to delineate lines. A huge holoprojected movie was playing on the closed clamshell doors. A designated zero-G area had been provided, and a couple of rings for martial arts demonstrations. All uniform regulations had been abandoned within the space, and Chief Dugan's 'Temperance Squad' of people who didn't drink for cultural or religious reasons under Chief Héen was cuing up to serve the others beers, with a line… Presently about 300 long.

It was time for the Steel Beach Party.

Fei'nur could feel her future headache already gathering in the back of her head, as she saw the Captain, standing back and overseeing the affair. _Someone_ had to be responsible, after all.

And then Nah'dur wandered up. She was wearing shorts and a massive T-shirt about five sizes too large which declared her to possess 'CAT PRIDE' in English, as well as massive superstar sunglasses. "FEI'NUR!" She waved over the budding cacophony of noise.

 _Oh gods…_ "Yes, Nah'dur…?" She kept one eye on the crowd, and the other on the young surgeon.

"...Do you want to get in the MEAT LINE with me? They're barbequing, well, everything!" Nah'dur grinned brilliantly.

"You are _far_ too exuberant…" Still, she moved to stand in the queue, head pivoting about to track the whole compartment.

Elia was standing with Zhen'var with this bemused grin on her face, watching it all. There were fairly large hordes of crewers in bathing suits or shorts, now carrying beers as the Temperance Squad was pushed to the limit in dispensing them. The band had struck up classical Earth rock. Several games of volleyball had started.

Elia watched for a moment and saw one of the teams was short. "..Do you mind if I take my leave, Captain?" Her civilian clothes were trim and athletic, but still up there with the Muslimahs in modesty, a habit of a telepath woman that could never leave her.

"No, go ahead Commander, I will be fine." She smiled slightly and cast her gaze over out her crew. "They are settling down well enough."

"It's exactly what we needed!" Elia laughed and tipped a salute, before charging onto the matting for the volleyball court. She counted in with a raised glove, and then immediately lunged into action. Commander Saumarez was enormously physical as befit a crack batswoman in cricket, and she wasn't bad at _volleyball,_ either, making a perfect diving dig to knock the ball back into play and then lunging easily into the mix of the team that had needed help. She needed a warm-up anyway, the Cricket was going to start in another thirty minutes…

Zhen'var shook her head at the exuberance. It had been a _very_ long while since she had been the same, now..

As she shook her head, around her, the tables were filling up with humans and Dilgar sitting together, eating BBQ together. Smoked fish, deep fried fish, deep fried birds, BBQ'd birds… Hamburgers and sausages galore. The Dilgar mostly had a kind of innocent wonder that they were getting such an amazing party on a warship while serving in the Navy, tucking in as they drank and the ice was broken.

Chief Dugan wandered up to her grinning, a massive pair of Ray-Bans concealing his eyes but the grin left no doubt of how pleased he was. A Chief's intimidation factor meant he couldn't exactly 'let his hair down' all the way… But instead of his uniform he was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a Stihl chainsaw branded baseball cap, and a threadbare service mechanic's work shirt that declared he was a Certified ElecTrek Fuel Cell Tech. He was holding a Sam Adams Boston Lager bottle in one hand. "Looks like we're knocking it out of the park, Captain."

"Agreed, Chief. It is going very well, as long as it stays that way, we will have to make this a semi-regular feature of regular or sudden deployments." She kept her tone professional - still always the poised Captain, even here.

"You got it, ma'am. Look, it's about 50/50 on Dilgar and humans at every table. No clustering." He was _proud_ of that. The meat helped, so did the beer, but it was still _happening._ The conversations might in some cases be as awkward as hell, but they were conversations. The cover band had a Dilgar drummer using a Dilgar set to improvise the beat for the human singer's valiant best attempt to pull off Sammy Hagar.

"I am not nearly drunk enough to think that _sounds good_ , however…"

"Heh. You probably haven't had anything yet, Ma'am," he chuckled, and then glanced over, possibly in a bit of surprise, to see Anna Poniatowska using one of the rings to demonstrate traditional steppe sword-dancing.

"And things like _that_ are why I will not. Carry on, Chief!" She'd use the excuse to move off, wanting _all_ of her crew to _enjoy_ themselves. This would be a hard enough deployment already.

And then there was quite the commotion. Humans and non-humans, people had been enjoying the HESCO Bastion pools. Jumping in, splashing around, using squirt guns, diving underwater and paddling around in the relatively small horizontal dimensions. But no Dilgar. Dilgar, generally, did not like intentionally getting wet.

Then a Dilgar woman with ashen silver-gray fur exploded out of the changing room area, dashing up to one of the Bastions and the temporary platform around it with a happy shout of delight. She promptly cannonballed into it, splashing the general area. Everyone was laughing.

Human guys were laughing and pointing. "That was awesome, look at how she ran, damn, she must love water!"

Dilgar, on the other hand, looked on in a mixture of awe and shock.

Lieutenant Ca'elia was laughing softly as she moved towards the Bastion with a far more sedate pace, a wrap around her swimsuit underneath. She grinned at her Captain as she passed. "My sister, Aur'ma, displays the usual love of an Islander for water." Emerald eyes shone in challenge as she climbed up the platform set beside the pool and slipped in herself. "Gods, Aur'ma, how do you always get me into swimming!?"

"Because it's _fun,_ and you like boats anyway!" Aur'ma laughed. "Come on, sis. It's _deep,_ so we can dive!"

Smiling hugely, Ca'elia pushed her red hair back with a hand and dove under the surface, surfacing quick enough to launch herself back onto the side deck. It was settled; the Dilgar were in the HESCO 'pools' too...

Will came up to Zhen'var next. As the crew's 'dad', he had put a lot of the behind the scenes effort into coordinating with Chief Dugan to organise the event. However, in honour of the festivities, he was wearing a 'Hawaiian shirt' someone had provided him along with his own pair of Ray-Bans. "Well, the good news is that Chief Héen doesn't even require supervision, she's keeping the Temperance Squad doling 'em out by the book," he noted softly. "Not like I really doubted that. She struck me as taking the job really seriously for personal reasons."

"Cultural and personal both, I would say. You seem quite comfortable, Commander." She herself was still wearing a uniform, even if it was the field rig, as comfortable as one could get while still within the regulations.

"Well, yeah. It's an occasion I really haven't known since…" He trailed off. Since the destruction of his homeworld, of course. In that, Will shared more with the Dilgar than other humans. "I might do some of that 'field improvised lawn bowling' later, but Elia's going to _kill_ at that, by all accounts."

"Cricket? Or lawn bowling? Either way, yes, she rather will. I am one of the few on the ship that _might_ be able to come remotely close, if I was younger."

"Oh, Cricket is just hopeless, that's really 'Elia shows the crew she's a pro'," Will grinned. "I was talking about the lawn bowling."

"Then I fall back on my 'might if I were younger', Commander." The Captain smiled back, letting out a soft sigh. "Good enough."

Over at one of the tables, Violeta was eating across from Lial t'Rllaillieu and Arterus. The two had assembled a reasonable approximation of a proper Rihannsu meal from the selection. Violeta wasn't sure quite what to say; Sirians didn't have Royalty.

"I confess, Lieutenant, that though I remembered my Grandaunt's stories of the Federationers, I had never quite expected to see a sight like this, ever. I am also fascinated since the _by and large_ calm dourness of the Dilgar in appreciating their food seems quite unlike the reputation of most felinoids here. Their Imperium was as a legend."

"A dark legend, err, Your Highness," Violeta answered. "This is the Captain's way of getting the crew to bond. And I think it works well. I was used to, well, holodecks and other things you'd probably call 'federationer'..."

"You would be correct, Lieutenant," Lial allowed a faint bemused smile.

"...Though so, Your Highness. Well, Dilgar culture is stricter and Captain Zhen'var's own customs more military. But there's sincere camaraderie in this, in making everyone be _together._ Noisy, though."

Princess Lial laughed. "Fairly met on both points. You were one of the famous Aurorans, were you not?"

Violeta couldn't help a blush, even with the dark colour of her skin it showed through. "That seems excessive. Yes, I served on the _Aurora._ Has our story already spread that far?"

"It took only three five year missions for the first _Enterprise_ to become a legend as few others… But her name was already known to friend and foe after the first under Captain April. So, yes, you have made your name, known to friend and foe."

"Good evening, Your Highness." Captain Zhen'var's voice broke through the noise around them, the woman holding a glass of water as she made her rounds. "Is all well?"

"I would say so," Lial looked up, resting a hand tenderly on her cousin's shoulder for a moment to reassure or assuage him of the impulse to rise for his commander. "You have made a wonderful ship here, and a wonderful hour for your crew. I admit, I can see how these silly, wild moments lead to the beautiful grim scenes of the paintings in the wardroom, though the course is one alien to a Rihannsu conception."

"Alien to those who knew the old ways of the Dilgar Imperium as well. I am contented to see you safely away from your foes. Was there anything else you need of _Huáscar_?"

"Possibly a ride to another universe," Lial said wryly, and perhaps even glumly. "I must go further afield, it seems. I am four years Arterus' elder and had more experience in the Starfleet, but it pains my heart sore to think of myself as a mercenary, surely that is no good fate for a woman 'born to the purple' as the humans would say. Your officers have said it depends on the cause, and that is wise; I will let Mnhei'sahe guide me and not fear too much about these other matters." She paused, and decided honesty mattered. "I admit, I am a Captain, I could use a ship."

"To take service under foreign colours in exile is no mercenary thing, Your Highness. Dilgar and human culture alike has tales of such people, some weaving very grand tales indeed. I am sponsoring another woman in a similar state to the Alliance service, in fact."

"I would like to talk to her, if I could be introduced for a correspondence?" Lial asked. "I shall take your wisdom under advisement. That you follow Mnhei'sahe one has little doubt."

"I shall do so, Your Highness." Zhen'var inclined her head fractionally. "I thank you for the compliment." She said nothing about the ship, and Lial regretted having brought it up.

"You are most welcome. Ah, but here," she added, pushing her largely empty plate aside. "Captain Zhen'var, I do believe your Operations Officer is setting up to play her most unusual game. Arterus told me she could have been a professional in it, if the humans of her world had not prevented her caste from such occupations."

"I shall leave you to it. Commander Saumarez is _very_ skilled at this." Zhen'var inclined her head again, and moved off to observe the room and Elia's performance. _So far, so good._

"Oh, I am coming to watch it too, Captain. One last request of you?"

"Yes?"

"May we meet tomorrow?"

Zhen'var quickly glanced through her Omnitool. "Yes, at fourteen hundred, Your Highness. I will put it in." She waved, and then turned her attention to Elia.

If it wasn't for the discrimination of the Earth Alliance, Elia could have played women's professional cricket-that much, nobody in the audience doubted after she made it brutally clear again and again, her hair pulled back neatly under her helmet, her eyes intense, gloves ready on the bat. The game proper lasted a while, but not that long; she focused on teaching interested newcomers after that with the help of the other cricketeers, because the mismatch was too much to keep playing!

Zhen'var internally cursed the need to keep the captain's mask up - she had always been a better bowler than striker, and possibly the only person on the crew who might not be _completely_ overmatched by Elia, but she'd passed the years where it would have been acceptable to jump in serving on Babylon 5.

Elia looked at her chrono and then stepped away, and over to Zhen'var's side. She was sweaty but brilliantly confident and calm. "I need to go get ready to take the watch. Abebech should be done shortly when her watch on the bridge is over."

"Very well, you stand dismissed, Commander. Very good work there; I would not stand much chance in single wicket against you, I rather think."

"...I think you're being modest, Captain. I'd love to try sometime." She tipped a salute. "I'm just glad for the opportunity." There was real feeling in that, until she had come to the Alliance she had never played sport against Mundanes.

"Someday on leave, when there is not a rest of the crew around. Go on, I shall keep an eye on everything."

"Thank you." Elia headed out, with the event continuing.

A little while later, Abebech Imra arrived, in a stunning gray-blue dress with a multicoloured scarf around the waist, and her curly hair seeming to occupy a vast space behind and below her head, not high like an Afro, but hanging low and yet possessing enormous volume. She had a _guitar case_ slung over one shoulder, and wore long white opera gloves and her characteristic sunglasses.

The Captain's eyes had gone wide indeed, as she gave a sheepish wave in greeting. _How can one woman have so much hair hidden so well normally!_

Abebech waved back, and offered a slight smile, as she wandered over to a corner, sitting down with her back resting on one of the assault transports, far from the noisy stage. She soon attracted a small, curious group, and strumming her guitar with finger-picks only, began to sing. It was the first time Zhen'var could remember seeing Abebech do something that wasn't related to her duty at some level; a pure, innocent form of enjoyment.

Quietly slipping behind one of the transports, she just _listened_ , while overseeing the rest of the bay. _Somehow, I had not expected a guitar._

"... _And I think of you now, as a dream that I had long ago; in a Kingdom lost to time, the Archer is bending a bow; and I see you bring him bread and wine…"_ Her playing had an ethereal, haunting delicacy, which the strength of her voice overlaid and completed the song.

" _Oh, who would walk the stony roads of Merlin's time; and keep the watch upon the border-line…"_

She looked to Zhen'var and smiled when she finished. "I like old songs, of almost any sort, Captain."

"That was _beautiful_ , Commander." She bowed her head. "A beautiful display of the bardic art, truly. Folk music, I assume?"

"In a sense. A pop-rock singer with strong connections to the folk movement from the twentieth century. Though that's one of his.. Folkier songs. Or was. I'm not sure he's alive in any universe, though he might be. There are a lot of universes."

"It might be worth checking. A chance to see a live performance that never will be seen again is always a worthy thing. Thank you for coming, Commander."

"...You are quite right. And quite welcome. It's a lovely evening." Abebech watched the Captain wander off, and then struck up a brighter tune on the request of one of those in her little audience. She'd just have to make sure her helmswoman didn't know she could sing _Admiral William Brown._

* * *

The Steel Beach Party lasted for about another ninety minutes after Zhen'var's conversation with Abebech. As soon as it ended, Chief Héen organised the crews that broke out to clean up the bay.

Once everything was well in hand, with a yawn, the Captain would depart, with a wave of thanks to the Chief - she'd have to write up a mention in her dispatches for that, she thought. Zhen'var was lost in thought as she walked the decks, half on autopilot as she headed straight for her cabin. It had been a _long_ night.

There were no more alerts, no more activities. Just a chance to rest. It was with a very grateful sigh the woman pulled off her jacket and moved to climb into her new hammock to rest, letting it rock gently as she looked off at the viewscreen that replaced a viewing port. Reflexively, though with a groan, she reached for her personal datapad. _Just check urgent messages before bed, that's all…_

There were the usual messages people at Personnel or Financial or some other rear area org passed off as being important but really weren't. _You know, if everyone marks all the messages as important, they all go right to the junk folder… oh well, a fact of life, I suppose._ She deleted another marked "HOT! IMPORTANT! READ!" from someone in Operations Support with a sigh.

Then she flicked the screen over to her personal account, just on the slightest urge of curiosity. So far in the past week, there had been nothing except for the birthday greetings and spam. Tonight, however, when she loaded the inbox, she saw the hokey name of her dating site in block Dilgar script. _You have a private message_!

With visible trepidation, Zhen'var would squirm a bit in her hammock before pressing 'Open'.

 _Hi! I saw your profile and I wanted to reach out. I work in the fleet, too, at Arta'kar Reserve Depot. You seem really cute and pretty intellectual, it's a nice combination. We should work out a time to talk soon!_

Her profile picture showed a somewhat dashing looking Dilgar woman maybe a half-decade younger in mufti including a long coat.

 _You must be rather busy recently, then. Let me know when you are available, and I will see if I have a mutually acceptable time free_. It was short, but her fingers still trembled fractionally when Zhen'var hit 'Send Reply'.

A moment later, before she could turn the screen off, an answer flashed back. _I'm about to go onto duty, but maybe three days from now at 16:00 OCT? It's neat that you got back to me so quickly! I can't wait to hear more about you._ The Dilgar Navy still ran on Ogkharin Coordinated Time.

 _See you then._ Zhen'var flopped back with a huge smile on her face. _It's a video date! This is so cheesy, like a holonovela!_

The sun shall also rise; the quiet patrol duties of a thousand ships went on, as the day slowly resumed in an Alliance a little wiser, and a little warier, than on the day that Gersal had burned. And the ASV _Huáscar_ swung in orbit as the Queen of the Triangle, with state rivals and slavers properly intimidated, and little children looking up at her with telescopes. Captain Zhen'var curled up and went to sleep.

* * *

The next day, the door trilled for her cabin. In the morning she had finally successfully deactivated the computer's announcement feature again, but she knew who it was anyway. Lial t'Rllaillieu was standing there when she opened the door.

"Your Highness. Please, come and sit."

Lial moved to one side of the desk, and smiled faintly.

"Anything to drink?"

"Khavas, please. Your replicators are marvelous, I am sure they do a good enough job."

"Of course." Her usual chai followed, and she set her mug on the desk, placing the other in front of Lial, before moving to sit. "What may I do for you? Did you enjoy our efforts at giving the crew a recreation opportunity?"

"They are a wild lot, but also honest and cheerful. I could tell that you were attempting to reconcile the Dilgar and the Humans to each other; it seemed successful, Captain," she answered with a bemused smile. "Also rather loud, but it was exactly as you promised, the enthusiasm of the lower deck."

"Better than it could be." She gave a visible small shrug, focusing her gaze on the Romulan woman across from her.

"I wish to apologise again for my curtness with the titles," Lial offered after a moment, between sips of khavas. "I was trying to offer some of the Federationer's relaxed style toward titles of dignity and rank, out of an assumption. I did not mean to cause offence."

"The old Imperium was… extremely focused on the externals of such things. While the Union is more relaxed than it was, we are very much more formal than the Alliance as a whole. It was not a bad assumption for any _other_ ship in the Navy."

"Dilgar and Rihannsu seem to have more measures in common. Certainly more than you share with Klingons," she answered. "So, Captain, what is to become of me?"

"I am not sure. I have not submitted my report as yet, my superiors are unaware of your presence, but it is unsafe for you to return whence you came." She idly ran the tip of a gloved finger along her desk. "I seem to have a habit of finding women in situations such as yours."

"It is very unsafe, and I am grateful. If I had a means of carrying on my trade with some dignity, I would leave this universe to avoid causing you diplomatic problems," she answered. "Does that… Help?"

"The last went to take Alliance service, as she had…" Zhen'var paused. "We restored her brother, but she had been on the opposing side of the war. It does help, I certainly am willing to - personally - assist you in traveling where you wish. You have personally done nothing to deserve such dogged pursuit."

"I will take passage to anywhere reasonable, but inevitably to support myself I must become a mercenary. I should not like the dishonour of fighting for small things in one of those universes like the Inner Sphere, but I will take it if I must. Mnhei'sahe dictates as much that I am not useless as that my profession is honourable, and if the Prince I serve is a good one, it is better than taking poison. To be blunt."

"There are plenty of good, worthy causes. Some can even afford those who come to fight for them, it is true. Humanity and the Dilgar have examples of each. Do you have any idea what sort of cause you _would_ wish to fight for?"

"Well, I…" She opened her mouth and then closed it again. "I already owe my life to a human troubador of a sort. She arranged Arterus and I's escape from the Star Empire. Her name … She just had us call her Charlotte Corday. I don't think she could have been a Federationer, not in the slightest. She was dignified, brave, always had a song, and seemed possessed of some real resources. Also such unusual colouring that at first I did not think she was a human-it was not a colour I've ever seen on another human."

"That is an _interesting_ choice of code name. I also doubt anyone from the Federation would ever use it as their _nom de guerre_ ," Zhen'var answered with interest.

"Does it have some significance?" Lial was curious, now.

"The only nation I know with a ship named after her is the Aururian Empire. When, in most histories of Earth, the French revolted against their King and aristocracy, and murdered most of them, the movement was riven. She sympathized with the moderates, believed the King should not have been executed. Jean-Paul Marat was one of the radicals, who was uncompromising in his desire to kill the royalist prisoners the republic held - so she gained audience with him, then stabbed him to death in the bath. She has been a heroine under the restorations and empires, and an enemy under the republics. It is, shall I say, an excellent _nom de guerre_ for a royalist sympathizer."

"That makes sense. She sang a song of Kings when she left my presence. I should like to fight as Mnhei'sahe dictates, Captain. That is what truly governs my responsibilities. I think she followed Mnhei'sahe in her own way. She had the most remarkable colouration, these red-purple eyes and wonderful ashen silver white-blonde hair."

"Hm. I have only seen colouration like that before in Dilgar, and few and far between at that. A few rumours of another group, too." Zhen'var took another sip of her chai, pondering that odd bit of information, before making a noncommittal noise. "Princess Fiy'jash and her people, really. Ensign Aur'ma is one of them."

"I had thought it might be a human albino, at first."

"Doubtful, but a curiosity, I suppose, if it was not dye and lenses. The other group I know of would never _help_ anyone."

"Other group, Captain?"

"They are this… _horrifying_ group, a ruling class in another universe. They… do things to espers, telepaths, I would rather not speak of." Zhen'var grimaced. " _And_ they sponsor a vast multi-versal slaving network to keep up their… supply."

"Any population, no matter how vile in the main, may yet contain the righteous, Captain. Don't you agree?" Lial answered thoughtfully, craning her head to the side and swirling her cup, a finger setting her hair back into place.

"I do. How could anyone moral ever think otherwise? Change needs to come from within to be truly lasting, after all." The captain was regarding her guest carefully. _Is she leading somewhere…?_

"Let me see if I can arrange for you to contact her, so you can at least find out, then," Lial answered. "If she is one of those people, she has certainly moved beyond the immorality you speak of. Technically, after all, Rihannsu are espers, too."

"I would not be un-amenable. Certainly, I am… in something of a dual role, Battlemaster and Captain alike. Thank you, Your Highness." Smiling, Zhen-var drained the last of her teacup.

"You are welcome. ...What preparations shall I make, then?" She added, softly.

The Dilgar woman smiled, and started to rise. "Enjoy your time with your cousin, Highness. I will tell you tomorrow."

* * *

As promised, Commander Krodak arrived to discuss the _Far Star_ with her. He was shown in by Lieutenant Seldayiv, and strode forward in the _Huáscar_ 's Ready Room, presenting a flagon of bloodwine. "For a successful operation, Captain Zhen'var," Krodak inclined his head. "We have not had many opportunities to blood our young warriors since the war with the Cardassians ended."

"And the Dilgar have had too many. Thank you, Commander, it is accepted in the spirit it is given. In turn, to honored allies, a flagon of _ish'la'fran._ " That it had been confiscated from the lower deck did not need to be known, it was the best of the rotgut they had aboard, and the only thing strong enough for Klingons to regard as any but water.

" _Ish'la'fran,_ " he repeated carefully, regarding it. "Honour to you, Captain. We will drink it as we sing our songs of battle. So. How shall we dispose of the _Far Star,_ as the Orions called her?" Klingons, at least, got down to the point.

"Well, I have a few ideas. If we sell her off through the Admiralty Court, there is the matter with prize money, the same for seizing her directly, and how to divide the two. Despite her damage, she is still a good ship, and I had been speculating as to what we could do with her to most hurt our foes. I have a few ideas."

"What shared enemies do we have, Captain? These Nazis? The Cardassians? The Romulans? Unfortunately, we did not fight side by side." He grunted. "The house might commission her, but really, we would not want an Orion ship. The prize would be appreciated, but a blow against rivals would be better still. Tell me who and tell me how, Captain."

For a moment, she debated building the matter up more, then decided against it. "I have a descendant of Ael t'Rllaillieu aboard. The head of that house, for that matter. The Tal Shiar keep trying to kill her, she intends to leave this universe and take up her sword for causes of honour. She needs a ship. _Far Star_ seems a good enough start, and if she does well enough in gaining renown and power..." Zhen'var trailed off, not needing to explain further the consequences for the regime on Romulus.

"You want me to give the ship to a descendant of _Ael of the Bloodwing_?" His eyes widened and he laughed. "She was as few others, a legend of the stars, but the Romulans were unworthy of her reign."

"I know two of the current generation. I think the last two. They _are_ worthy of the name."

He chuckled and rubbed his chin. "It _would_ discomfit the Romulan government greatly, likely more than anything else we could do with such a ship."

"I am glad you agree. Battlemaster Fei'nur came up with the idea, with a former lower-deck woman's grasp of the intuitive path. We are in agreement, then?"

The Klingon Commander paused, as if he had just been outmanoeuvred and wasn't quite sure how. Then he nodded. "The Battlemaster is a true warrior. There is no question her read is right. So, there will be no sharing-the Alliance gets nothing? But I will give the ship to this t'Rllaillieu?"

"I acknowledge the ship as taken by your warriors, you will give the ship, I will give a value in repairs and supplies equal to her base salvage so we both suffer equal loss, Commander."

"Well met, Captain! I would have done it without the offer. You will tell your commanders it was to support my readiness while we were helping you guard Geisling?" He looked at her sharply, no fool.

"One great advantage of the Klingon system is less paperwork and bureaucracy. In a manner of speaking, it is even true." She bared her teeth in a dangerous-looking grin.

"Ha!" He clapped a fist to his chest. "You have my word, Captain. Let us watch the Tal Shiar howl!"

"You will forgive me for not singing _yljaH, Qey' 'oH_ , I hope. Dilgar vocal systems are not well designed for it."

"I have heard your own motto is 'Harm's way is the valiant way'," he answered, and looked up to the picture of Captain Grau. "Your human forbearers on _Huáscar_ have known it well too. It has been good to stand with you over Geisling. May we meet again soon for a true battle, a great one. That, I should like to see."

"If the Alliance continues on her current path, that will be soon enough indeed. Strike true until we meet again, Commander."

"Qapla', Battlemaster!" He rose, and tipped his head to the picture of Grau. "Qapla', _Huáscar_!"

 **Tag**

A young woman in the crisp blue uniform of the Alliance Stellar Navy's Fighter Corps made the traditional request at the transporter room to the Chief. "Permission to come aboard?" She presented her identicard.

"Granted, Flight Lieutenant. Report to Captain Zhen'var's ready room."

"Understood!" she nearly leapt to attention to salute, but stopped herself with a twitch of her hand and a wry grin.

"Your things will be waiting in your quarters, reference ARQ-15e in your omnitool for the final assignment. Welcome to the _Huáscar,_ Lieutenant… Hope you know, she's the fightingest ship in the fleet!"

"Oh, I know," the blonde woman grinned insouciantly, and headed for one of the turbolifts. Her training had become immeasurably more exciting with the attacks in the middle of it, and without those, she would still be in the middle of training, but the resumption of hostilities with the Nazi Reich had guaranteed that her class of seconded officers in the accelerated familiarization programme were put back on the war schedule and had already been passed out.

She rode the turbolift, composed and confident. This was _her_ life, finally free of the choices of others. Stepping along the recessed walkway which served to set the actual bridge apart from the entrance to the planning room, plotting room, astrogation and the Captain's Ready Room and Sea Cabin, she stole glances through the windows in the wall at the bridge. There set a very familiar figure in the form of Elia Saumarez. The gloves on her hands and the absence of them from her own marked the almost incomparably different cultural influences they had experienced.

Then she got to the Captain's Ready Room and activated the door chime, bringing herself to attention.

The light shifted colour, and the hatch cycled open. "Come in." echoed out into the corridor, the Captain looking up from her desk.

The woman stuck her face up, kept her posture proud and confident, and stepped in through the hatch. "Captain, Ma'am. Flying Lieutenant Artesia de Más reporting for duty."

An honest smile crossed the Dilgar woman's face, as she stood from behind her desk, and stepped over to shake Artesia's hand. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant de Más. It is good to see you again, and I am gratified to have you aboard once again as part of this crew."

Artesia shook her hand back with a grin on her lips. "It'll be an honour to serve you, Captain, on this ship which saved my people. And it's about time I got to serve with the man who fought my brother to a standstill."

"Oh, I would be more careful about the Chiefs. Still, welcome aboard. He will slot you into the wing, we will be heading out again soon enough, a deep-range mission. Anything you need while we are in 'civilization', go ahead and get it now, for it will be replicator rations once we cast off."

"Captain? A deep-range mission? Well, I'll make my arrangements then. I'm still getting used to the idea of that meaning more than Jupiter with the hydrogen fleets."

"Not only another universe, but then following a long-cold trail of an evacuation fleet from a dead Earth. Expect to get a _lot_ of flight time on CAP, Lieutenant."

"With pleasure, Captain. Thank you for having me aboard." Her blue eyes gleamed. "Do I stand dismissed?"

"Unless there is anything else, yes. Go ahead and get settled. I am sure Commander Saumarez will also be pleased to have you aboard." _So I think, anyhow. She misses what she had back home._

 _I don't really understand the culture of Newtypes back in your home universe she grew up in, but I did take to heart her lessons in how to communicate,_ Artesia cast back with a jerk of surprise at the clear thought intended for her. _So, hopefully it will be a nice surprise._

 _I hope so. Welcome aboard, Huáscareño._


	23. Episode 5 Introduction

**_Introduction_**

Captain Zhen'var had particular beliefs about what should happen when an Admiral came to visit her ship. At the news that Admiral Davies-the Vice-Chief of Naval Operations-was arriving for an inspection and meeting, she had turned the ship out from top to bottom. Chief Dugan had turned the punishment details to double-time, laying down the knife-hand as he had driven the lower deck into a disciplined frenzy of effort. Stasia had arrived in her field uniform with a Sam Browne belt over her flight blues and manned the brooms to clean the aviation spaces. Elia had started going around all of the ship except engineering to do white glove inspections, and of course Anna had done the same in engineering.

The Dilgar crewers were actually utterly terrified of the inspection, and had thrown their backs into preparing the ship. They had briefly reached 100% operational readiness for the cleaning drones, and they had broken out the mops and rags anyway. A few of Fei'nur's Dilgar marines were sporting black eyes with no story of a fight and the deck could be eaten off of in the marine spaces. When the flight deck was clean, the Mongeese were polished and the kill markings touched up. All was in readiness. The band was assembled and waiting on the deck of the shuttle bay, and the entire crew were in full dress whites except the Marines, wearing their dress greens and the flight personnel, dress blues.

The officers couldn't help but exchange grins. They fully expected to impress, and the Warrants and NCOs surged with pride as well as the bay doors opened, the atmospheric screen glimmering within as the shuttle made its approach. The band was ready to play _Hail to the Spirit of Liberty,_ since the Sousa tunes were well in evidence with the preferences of the founders of the Alliance.

Captain Zhen'var stood at the head of her officers, stiff-backed as the shuttle glided in, knowing that the lines of her crew were ruler straight, the entire ship ready for an Admiral's inspection.

The shuttle settled down to the deck, and once the post-flight and cycling on the airlock were complete, the ramp extending smoothly, the hatch opened. Admiral Davies stepped out with his staff and two guards trailing behind. The band struck up _Hail to the Spirit of Liberty._ He started down the ranks to Captain Zhen'var.

She held at attention, managing to suppress the urge for her hand to want to shoot up when he came within speaking distance. "Admiral Davies, _sir_ , welcome aboard _Huáscar!"_

"Captain Zhen'var. I see you've turned her out smartly," he answered, coming to attention. She could see his own hand pause. "Reminds me of home, in fact. Prepare the crew for review."

" _Sir_." She turned her head precisely. "Bugler! _Atten-tion!"_ Three short notes blared out across the hangar deck.

The ranks snapped to inspection order. Admiral Davies watched for a moment, and then started down the lines of the assembled. His inspection was sharp, precise, and serious. Divisions stiffened as he passed, rippling spreading down the bay around the Admiral's party.

The Admiral checked uniform fittings, proper wear of medals, observed the correctness of the sailors and officers of all ranks. Then he returned to Zhen'var. There was a grudging admiration in his look. "Captain, you have turned your ship out like a proper vessel of a regular military. Good show. You may dismiss the party."

"Admiral, sir. Bugler, Assembly, _Dis-miss!"_ The crew broke out in dismissal order as Davies watched.

"Captain, if you would come with me, and have the senior officers ready for a briefing in thirty minutes?" He glanced down to her, his eyes flicking for a moment across the assembled ranks.

"Of course, sir. Commander Atreiad, please assemble the full command staff in thirty minutes." Zhen'var gave the order simply, then stepped to Admiral Davies' side, two steps behind.

"Yes, Ma'am." he turned to the other officers. "Senior Command and Department Heads to Assemble in Conference Suite One in thirty minutes," Will repeated to them, stepping away.

Davies made time with his staff at Zhen'var's side, and then paused by the turbolift. "Commander Travis," he addressed the ranking woman in the group, "go to Conference Suite One and get ready for the briefing, I'll be meeting with the Captain privately of course."

"Sir."

The Dilgar woman was keeping her fluttering stomach tightly in rein, concerned about whether or not they _had_ really done well.

As they got into the turbolift for her Ready Room, Davies smiled faintly. "You have turned out the ship really quite well, Captain. She represents the kind of pride and military bearing that I would like to see in all the ships of the Alliance Stellar Navy."

"Thank you, sir. The crew has come together well, and we of the Union are exceptionally keen to comport ourselves in a way to bring honour to our home and the Alliance as a whole."

"I admit this was not an experiment I supported at first, but you have proved yourselves anyway. Admission to the Alliance is a foregone conclusion within the next year, Captain." The turbolift arrived, and they stepped across the bridge to key into her Ready Room.

"I am grateful to hear it, Admiral." Her eyes darted around the room for the moment - even in here, she had arranged everything perfectly for an Admiral's inspection.

"I will be honest about something else," he said as the door closed, moving to sit first. "My first response to Admiral Maran granting you this command was 'this is the most nuts thing he's done yet'." A wry smile. "You have certainly proved your competence and stability, Captain. That matter is closed."

"I understand how it may have looked, Admiral." She returned the smile, equally wry and small as she sat after him. "We are not a conventional crew, nor I a conventional captain, but I believe we serve well enough."

"What I saw out there looked a lot more like a conventional crew than I had expected, or that I see elsewhere in this Navy, frankly, Captain. You have my appreciation for it." He glanced to the picture of Captain Grau. "The _Huáscar_ is a true fighting ship."

"The blood of the old Imperium, turned towards liberty, alloyed with the enthusiasm of the rest of the crew is a potent mix, Admiral. I am proud to lead them, sir, as we build a tradition of this name under a new flag."

"As you should be. You know, Captain, the Alliance wasn't something any of our nations _wanted._ It was forced onto us by grim necessity, to control and direct the application of this technology, and prevent the utter horrors of its proliferation… Which we are still experiencing in some real measure."

"We conquer or perish, sir. We may find ourselves compelled to annihilate all the oppressors in the multiverse to find peace and freedom, I confess myself starting to believe."

"Endless war is not healthy for democracy, Captain. It demands a kind of attitude and sacrifices which may keep us safe, but will excite resistance from many areas. Realistically, there has to be a better way for us to find, something which doesn't entail a perpetual armed camp. It might be possible for many of these risks to be managed by efforts less than war. I don't pretend to have the answers there, nor should we even necessarily discuss them, but I do ask you to bear in mind that many of these greatest threats are the result of species, intelligences much beyond on our own. You know that already from the Vorlons and Shadows. These threats, the powers they evidence, are a unique challenge to democratic equality and have proved themselves to underlay the fleets we have faced."

"I agree with those points, sir. What we wish, and what happens, may differ, but if we stand together, the Alliance can come out stronger from the crucible. That I believe, I have to."

He grinned. "I've certainly learned that you are a practical woman. Your support for the repatriations to Psi-Corps showed it from your first mission. Well, how do you see Dilgar society settling in to the Alliance? The Union's story of survival is certainly one of the more remarkable events in the Multiverse."

"At least for a while, sir, we are going to be a combination of the Ghurkas and the Quarians. That is to say, we will volunteer in large numbers to be seconded into the Alliance service, but I also believe the Dilgar talent at reverse-engineering and making items of wildly disparate technology bases work together is invaluable, once it can be demonstrated. That, however, requires our economy and population to recover, which turns back to the first point." She grimaced at having to be so blunt, but it was _true_. They had survived, but _not_ with any real power, not on a galactic scale.

"You are proud and honest. It is enough. I hope practical considerations will drive us closer together. And, your work in the fleet has been excellent. You seem prepared to set an example as we move to implement more regular military discipline in the future."

"We would be honored to be an example to other ships, Admiral."

"Well, let's get over to the conference suite," he answered, rising. "This mission is an interesting one, and should be challenging enough for your talents."

"You will please forgive if that phrase does not fill me with confidence it will be an _easy_ one." Zhen'var replied smoothly as she followed to her feet. "After you, sir."

"Right-o," he chuckled as he stepped out of the ready room, though he pitched his voice lower. "You know, Captain, not many of us actually like the crew of the _Aurora._ They are in an almost extra-constitutional position, able to influence the government despite nominally being low ranking. Really, they should have all left their ship and entered politics after forming the country. But they didn't, in part because we didn't want them to be leaders either. It was a complicated, frankly terrifying time. The fate of multiple entire universes was held in the hands of a small group of inexperienced young people who were recklessly disseminating technology and threatening wars. The Alliance was created as much to rein them in as to fulfill their vision."

"Perhaps, sir. What has been unleashed on the multi-verse cannot be arrested now. I fear we must hope that their good intentions will fuel good deeds, as they gain both experience and restraint." She chose her words carefully, trying to stay neutral in tone towards fellow officers.

"Certainly so. You have certainly come out winners in the events they unleashed, though. We will see about all of us. We will see." He stepped forward into the briefing room, watching with approval as the _Huáscar_ 's officers snapped to attention. "Ladies and gentlemen," Davies began, "I first want to congratulate you on a very successful beginning to the _Huáscar_ 's story in Alliance service," he allowed, giving Zhen'var a chance to reach her own place at the table. "You have set new standards for our service."

Zhen'var sat, then, and gave a quick sweep of the room with her eyes. Everyone was in place, and now they would find out just what new mission the upper command echelons had for them.

"Welcome to Universe F7S4," he said, bringing up an image of a battered, gray and yellowed Earth, though it still had seas, which dominated the surface. "Approximately four thousand years ago it went through runaway global warming and was swept with disease. We found small descendant remnants of isolated and indigenous groups with stone-age development only, as well as a dense satellite belt and some evidence of Moon and Mars bases. Most interestingly of all…"

He brought up an image of an immense carved pyramid. "There are two of these, one on the location of Chicago and one on the location of Beijing. They contain pictographic star maps pointing to the Cyrannus Star System."

Will jerked in his seat. "Admiral, Sir, you mean…"

"This universe may have _also_ seen the same events which led to the formation of your people, yes, Commander." Admiral Davies agreed. "Except different, of course. No Gersallians, no Dorei, no Coserians. And Earth is not completely lifeless. But the problem is we imaged the Cyrannus star system," the next image showed gravity sensor outputs.

"What we found is that the Star System contains five main sequence stars, not four, and that it has multiple additional stars which do not match any known sequence. These stars … May be artificial."

"Artificial stars, Admiral?" Fera'xero's vocoder flashed in obvious astonishment. "The only star which may be artificial is that within the Dyson Sphere the United Federation of Planets found, and the conventional hypothesis says it is natural."

"Commander, we don't know yet, but it is a possibility. One we need to investigate. That kind of technology could radically alter the balance of power in the universe, and could be used for all kinds of nefarious as well as beneficial purposes." He brought up the next image. "And here we have the final piece which makes this interesting. We have definitive evidence of an anomaly originating from the system in subspace which looks like it may fundamentally interfere with the operation of conventional FTL technologies. So after two weeks at high warp to get there, you'll have to spend a month working your way in-system with impulse. Interuniversal drives should still work, however, if you need to escape in a hurry. Your objective is to thoroughly survey the system, find any survivors of this universe's humanity, and understand the source of the FTL interference and the possibly artificial stars. Due to the distance and logistics constraints involved you will be operating with complete latitude, independent from comms to headquarters."

"Of course, Admiral! We will need to load additional supplies, we should be ready to depart within two to three days - several longer, if we require off-ship fabrication of certain spares."

"I would like you underway within the next five days," Admiral Davies answered. "Priority will be given to the _Huáscar_ for supply of spares."

"Then it can be done, Admiral, and we shall do so." Readiness for inspection and for a possible multi-month deployment were different, but they would make Davies' deadline. They _had_ to, to keep the reputation they were slowly starting to earn.

"Excellent. Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I have every confidence in the success of _Huáscar_ on this mission. You stand dismissed." He nodded to his own staff, who rose and assembled with him. He gestured to Zhen'var to step closer, though, as the others departed.

"Captain, I just wanted to say that I do also appreciate your legacy of following a hard, honourable course in complicated situations. It gives me confidence that you will make difficult choices correctly in the future. We are beset with many powerful enemies, metaphysical ones, outside of the realms of mere starships and guns. I appeal to you to stick to your guns and remember the hard decisions you've made in the past if you are ever confronted with new hard decisions in this service."

"I do not intend to change, sir." Zhen'var replied, her posture reflexively stiffening. "It is the duty of _kshatriya_ to fight, and fight wisely and bravely when we do."

"Good. We cannot predict the future, but if we maintain the right comportment, we will face it calmly when the storm comes to call. You stand dismissed, Captain. Thank you." With that, he departed with his staff, and left Zhen'var to prepare for her mission.

 ** _Undiscovered Frontier: Origins_**

 ** _Season 1 Episode 5_**

 ** _"Big Iron"_**


	24. Episode 5 Act 1

**Act 1**

When they arrived at the Earth of this universe, now designated F1S4, Elia looked below at the sand-blasted plains on the viewscreen from her position in the _Huáscar_ 's command chair. The oceans had not boiled off, and ultimately had helped stabilize the planet's climate. With the abandonment of the surface by technological civilisation, the oceans had stabilised. They were still almost totally barren of many forms of life, dominated by squid and algae. On the land surface, immense jungles dominated what had once been the Great Plains; further south, in a huge band around the equator on both sides, nothing lived. The Pampas was home to the largest group of surviving humans, cultivating cassava root where the verdant plains were now an immense jungle in the south.

In the northerly climes, in Baffinland and northern Greenland, small, primitive farming communities growing wheat and maize crops remained, mostly the descendants of Inuit and some caucasians. On the Tibetan plateau, descendants of Nepalis had migrated to grow crops on the extremities, around the arroyos formed by the total melting of the glaciers, with complex cultures descended from local peoples in the western part of Yunnan on the high peaks. This group was totally isolated from the north, just as the groups in the south were totally isolated as well, including the utterly fascinating culture which as far as the first contact groups had ascertained, had been descended from a mix of Maori and indigenous Australian peoples who had taken boats to Antarctica.

The tales they told to the strictly controlled anthropological teams were wild, of the aeons ago when great ships had spanned the stars and an alliance of two nations had dictated the fate of the Earth. The dying Earth that they had abandoned, leaving the undesirable populations, the forgotten minorities, the sick and the infirmed, behind to die. Instead, with the typical aplomb of humans, the indigenous Amazonians had migrated south, the Aymara had adapted to cassava and moved further into the Andes above the plateaus to grow it on verdant tropical slopes above blasted sand plateaus, the Inuit had integrated the Danes and Canadians and began to practice agriculture, the Lapps some remaining Scandinavians and migrated to Franz Josef Land and Novaya Zemla, and the indigenous Australians and Maori had sailed the great Southern Ocean to find a new land to live in. Human life was tenacious, and Elia was proud of it.

Violeta, coming off shift, paused by her side. "Commander, it's quite remarkable, isn't it? This is the worst-case scenario for a Hothouse Earth and we're looking at it, what, almost four thousand years after the greenhouse gas emissions were stopped?"

"Something like that," Elia answered. "Our ancestors were such utter fools, but it's amazing to look back on the documents of the time and think that people seriously believed it would scour the surface and render humanity extinct. We're too much like rats or pigs for that. And Mother Earth is as resilient as all hell." She winked. Elia didn't mind the young helmswoman, even if she sometimes wore her culture shock on her sleeve.

"What's the population?"

"The surveys aren't sure, just upper and lower bounds-somewhere between one half and two million in all the little isolated cultures."

"Is that because of the restrictions on contact?"

"Yes, just highly sanitized anthropological teams that aren't using modern equipment," Elia nodded. "No detailed scans so far. It's being debated on whether or not they should be provided assistance. I think it's ridiculous of course, so does Nah'dur. She's already written this long missive up through medical command citing a few hundred references to indigenous community medicine and how to provide medical and technological assistance at a pace and in a fashion respectful to indigenous communities. She doesn't understand why we don't just learn their languages, open clinics, and started working with their traditional healers to begin integrating modern medicine."

"Any concerns about the consequences of contact? Granted, not like I'd _ever_ expect the Surgeon-Commander to be worried about such things."

"Not from me, to be honest, Lieutenant. We've just got to recognise that the local people have the first right to everything, including how to _use_ the technology we give to them-to reject and adopt it in their own time, regardless of what we _think_ is best for them. That's the key."

"Hnnh." Violeta looked at the planet.

"Ask Chief Héen about it," Elia answered. "She gets boiling mad about the prospect of just letting generation after generation of people live and die without modern technology on planets. The key is to offer it as a gift, and let people decide themselves what to do with it and how much of it to take, rather than impose our own moral judgements and constraints. That's why I'm hoping the very skilled rules lawyers in the Alliance manage to win the case arguing that since they _were_ an interstellar civilisation, they still count, that their current condition is artificial, not natural, and so we can implement those protocols. Of course, then we'll have to fight to save them from the opposite direction, you know. But some of the anthropologists have already been in contact with the Alliance Indigenous Rights Advocacy."

"It's not quite so cut and dried as the Federation Prime Directive, I know," Violeta answered, thoughtfully.

"The Prime Directive is moronic," Elia replied emphatically. "This is about letting indigenous, undeveloped peoples make their own decisions. The idea that we should be protecting them from technology they haven't developed on their own is racist, frankly, or speciesist, depending on the circumstance. We need to let them choose what technology they want, and let them choose how to use it. Stone age, iron age peoples aren't any less intelligent than we are. Just look at Anna. She went from steam engines to warp cores."

"You're right, Commander," Violeta said after a moment. "You're right. There's nothing else to it. I hope we succeed in winning that court case."

"Well, the AIRA," Elia grinned. "We're officers of the Government, we can't lobby the Senate." A wink.

"I'm sure we had nothing to do with it!"

"Precisely. Enjoy your rack-time, Leftenant. I'm sure this world will sort itself out. We'll help, but as long as they're in the driver's seat, it will be fine."

* * *

The ancient space station hung in orbit of Jupiter. The interior was covered in slogans of Chinese and English. They had been inscribed into the walls, and now were marked by archaeological survey tape. Dr. Fanaru, the Alakin archaeologist leading the team, greeted Abebech and Commander Goodenough as they drifted in.

"Commanders," he said. "I apologise about the lack of pressurisation, however, if we brought up the pressure on this station up, it would likely explode. The neutron brittleness from almost four thousand years has completely eliminated all strength that it has. To be honest, we are lucky we arrived when we did; not much longer and the gravity tides of Jupiter and Io would wrench her apart. The sulphur scouring on the hull has already opened numerous voids."

"I'd assumed as much, don't worry about it," Abebech answered through her suit comms.

"Like a rotted wreck in Neptune's grave," Goodenough murmured. "So what's the situation with the coordinates? I understand there's a second station orbiting Europa?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Are there any additional findings to what's already been found, Doctor?" Abebech looked around the haunting age of the abandoned toroidal space station. It had been a receiving and transfer point for gas and Ioian exotics-fuel products, in short.

"Just the content of these messages," he answered, gesturing to them on the wall of the station.

Goodenough followed his message. " _Forward, to our Universe._ " He shook his head. "Rather bloody enigmatic, isn't it, Ma'am?" He offered to Abebech. "Like 'Croatan', bloody near."

"...Heh, I suppose you are right. It _is_ rather like 'Croatan'," Abebech answered with a bemused smile. "Now that's an old story."

"Depends on what universe you're from, Ma'am."

"Near to three hundred years dead, even in your's," Abebech replied mildly. "Still, you are quite right. So, Doctor," she turned her attention back to the man, "you're confident the references add up to directions to the Cyrannus Star System?"

"Absolutely, Commander. I put that forward in my report."

"Well, yes, but I just wanted to see it for myself and make sure that report accurately reflected your beliefs," Abebech responded, looking around at the layout of the station. Unfortunately, it wasn't familiar as she had hoped, but she still had her suspicions.

* * *

Will was in Primary Astrogation, the facility that Arterus usually operated, with both the Rihannsu Lieutenant and Commander Fera'xero, looking over long-range passive sensor data. Anna Poniatowska was with them, doing calculations in the back. The _Heermann_ had docked and the _Huáscar_ had started off toward the Cyrannus Star System, cruising at Warp 9. The standardized scale for the Alliance differed from the Federation's to remove problems with the growth of warp speed capabilities in time. At that speed it would take them twenty-seven days to cover the approximately 1,800 lightyears to Cyrannus.

Anna was interested in the outputs because operations at that speed would overtax multiple components of the warp drive. Nominally the speed was a maximum cruise, but the difference between maximum cruise and regular cruise existed because regular cruising speed was at the bottom of the inflexion point in the speed/energy ratio of a warp drive, whereas maximum cruise was dictated by the power output of the reactors. In theory the ship could supply the energy to the drives for maximum cruise indefinitely, but in practice they were forcing almost ten times as much power into the warp coils at that speed as they did at normal peacetime cruising (Warp 8) even though the difference in speed was much smaller. At Warp 8 the Alliance scale synchronized with 8,000 _c_ ; at Warp 9 they were pulling more than 24,000 _c,_ but the energy consumed was ten times greater. The speed advantage of Darglan drives was noticeable, but not extreme; the sustained cruising speed of a brand new Federation _Intrepid_ was 6,000 _c._ At maximum warp the difference was actually _less._

Running at maximum warp, the drives rapidly burned through components and suffered brittleness from bombardment from exotic energies at the subspace interface. This was Anna's main interest. She was charting subspace with Fera'xero to try and figure out how much wear would be inflicted on the drive, and therefore what their actual optimal cruising speed was. If they had to stop to replace parts before they reached the system, for instance, it might have actually made more sense to just stay at Warp 8.8 or some figure like that for the journey, keeping them below thresholds at which they would need to replace components and thus eliminating the time at impulse spent doing so. Though even maximum sustained cruise was a misnomer. Between refueling and navigating around subspace anomalies and regular, non-bombardment based wear and tear, the average speed on extreme long duration missions would average out to about half of the nominal cruising speed. That was why galactic exploration with warp drive was not viable on the timescales of a human lifespan.

"Alright, Sector Delta-four-niner?" Anna glanced up to where Fera'xero and Commander Atreiad were talking.

"Getting you the results now, Commander," Fera'xero answered. "There you go."

"Thank you." She started plotting the subspace conditions and matching them against drive wear and impacts on velocity. "So, Will, still trying to figure out if this matches at all the stories of the migration of the Twelve Colonies?"

"Yes, to see if they conflated Kobol with Earth and Kobol was really just a stop along the way," Will answered, looking up from the star charts he was looking over with the Quarian science officer.

"Any luck so far?"

"Not in the slightest," Will answered. "Beyond the fact that this Earth isn't scoured, there seem to be a lot of differences."

Anna started running her latest tabulation on what was a glorified spreadsheet capable of quantifying and executing linear algaebra operations. She rose and went to the replicator. "Want some coffee, Will?"

"Sure," he chuckled, stepping over, too. "Back in a minute, Fera'xero."

"Oh, it's fine, there's several other things to catch up on," the Quarian answered. "I wouldn't keep you from the magic black drink which appears necessary for human life."

Will laughed. "I guess it's true. I tried to keep from getting addicted, and I failed."

"There is nothing more civilised than coffee and wine," Anna smiled as her selection appeared, and she handed Will's over as well. "It must be hard for you, Commander, the revelations that have come out, I mean."

"That the Cylons are related to some kind of fanatical Gersallian religious terrorist group?"

"Yes, that one," Anna agreed. "Of incredible age, too."

"I don't understand why they did anything. A lot of people are saying much of our history is built on a lie, now, but I don't know about that," Will answered. "It's incredibly disruptive to our efforts to build Colonial society. To be honest, I'm glad I'm not there."

"I feel the same way about the Mickiewicz regime," Anna answered. "The reasons are very different, of course."

"The problem is his agents can go to the Alliance Senate and insist he is a democracy that needs help," Will answered.

"He might just succeed, it isn't completely false. But there's no religious or ideological tolerance in his democracy. Honestly, I mean, I am a supporter of the Republic of Both Nations and the Intermarium," Anna sighed and pulled her _Huáscar_ baseball cap off to run a hand through her hair. At least Zhen'var had relented on the wearing of them when it was clear the SS remnants weren't as much of a threat as thought. "So if we could reestablish that geography of cultural tolerance, it would be a great lesson for our homeworld. But what we're going to do about the Orthodox Population in central Ukraine and Smolensk? Forcibly convert them to the Greek Rite? The Republic of Both Nations was also completely tolerant of Jews. Officially, of course..."

"But practically, you can't stop the fire you've unleashed." Will looked at the sharp, practical woman who had survived revolution and Siberian exile, and put himself in the shoes of her people, who now choked on a feast back home. What they shared was the fact that both societies' efforts to build themselves into something new had been disrupted.

"I'm worried about the future," Will's face scrunched into a frown and he turned back to Fera'xero's map. "We'll lose our religion, and our culture, and be swept away. Suffer almost as badly as Stasia's people or the other indigenous Americans. Already, people are asking if our entire religion is a lie, our entire society a joke."

"Would it matter?" Anna took his hand impulsively, then released it with a wry smile. "Friend, it is hard. But would it matter? The Poles did not stop being the nation of Piast the Wheelwright when his descendant and heir Mieszko King converted us to Christianity. Stasia's people are Orthodox, but she seems nothing of Russia to me, and little of America. Your people are too distinctive to be swept away, you are your own tribe and now that you have finally settled far from your enemies, you may yet rise from small numbers to great fame. Such has been the story of many peoples, also."

Will sighed, and smiled. "You know, Anna, you might be a democrat now, but you still have a Royalist conception of History. It's poetic. Thank you. I needed that, the debate has been stressful, especially this far away from where it's actually happening."

"Well, it's not like I gave up being Szlachta of the Poniatowscy," she answered with a laugh. "Just because we are a Republic doesn't mean we lack a nobility, that's always been Poland. Come on, let's see if we have some results. Sometimes, as much as the psychs hate to admit it, the best cure is distraction."

* * *

The usual work of maintaining the health of the crew of a starship was, if not boring, then at least routine, and Nah'dur dealt with it as a kind of autopilot in which training, experience and talent handled most issues by rote, with her mind focused on other things and her senses keyed to notice anything out of the ordinary. When a real challenge existed, she usually noticed it, focused on it, and dealt with it. This allowed her plenty of mental time to keep up to date on the computer programmes and lab samples she had running,

Of all of her side experiments, some required of her, and some she'd taken up voluntarily, the most interesting was the one that Urdnot Wrex had requested she execute. The most irritating part of it was accepting the money he sent for equipment so she could use reimbursable funds for procurement outside of the normal lab fit on a cruiser; the paperwork had been onerous in the extreme. The interesting part was pitting her wits against a collection of long-dead Salarians.

She had already made recent progress in improving the overall birthrate, but Nah'dur was uncontent with such measures. She wanted something much better to show Wrex than that. And so she had kept working, and now she had the beginnings of something.

"Personal Log, Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur. I continue to work on the solution for the genophage. The Salarians were, in certain respects, clever. They made the genophage self-reproducing from any cell in a Krogan organism. However, the mechanism of effect is itself clumsy and primitive, essentially weakening and thinning the protective extracellular matrix of Krogan embryos so that they fail primarily in the blastula stage."

A pause, as she reflected on the situation. "Essentially, my objective is to either harden or replace the blastoderm. It's clear that hardening is the preferred method, which requires genetic modification-but that modification will be relatively trivial as it is focused entirely on the female reproductive organs. The problem is this: If I harden the blastoderm, I must account for the fact it separates into and forms the nervous tissue, blood vessels, and intestines during later stages of embryonic development. The Krogan KDH4 protein causes differentiation between procursor neural cells and precursor epithelial cells. I will use this protein to control expression of my genetic modification; this will leave the neural cells intact. Note that the entire blastoderm will not be hardened. It will simply reduce the statistical probability of failure. Because during gastrulation the ectoderm forms the primary protective layer we approach fifty percent of the previous Krogan rate of viability, with a limited continued risk through the blastopore. This should increase the Krogan birthrate by a factor of fifty to sixty, pending final tests. A factor of one hundred and forty would be required to restore the Krogan pre-genophage birthrate, but this is not strictly necessary for Krogan survival and will require more effort.

"The risk is in subsequent failures in growth in the embryo because the skin lacks sufficient elasticity to allow for normal embryonic development. I am solving this by incorporating a deactivating protein into the mesoderm, so as the mesoderm is created it will progressively come in contact with the outer embryo layers through the blastopore development phase. The protein will then migrate slowly to the surface of the precursor epithelial layer as it is designed for cellular diffusion through chemical gradients. I believe this process can be made seamless enough that it will prevent re-introduction of risk."

She stretched, making a soft noise of pleasure at the sound of her muscles tensing and relaxing. "In conclusion, I've begun accelerated testing with the samples Battlemaster Wrex has provided to me, and we're two months at most away from having a test sample for use on a Krogan female. To improve long-term Krogan chances of survival I am preparing a Kroganised copy of the Universal Vaccine for integration into the genetic therapy retrovirus."

Nah'dur began to compose the written report based on the verbal log when a slow clapping came from the door to her office. She jerked around to look. "Commander Imra. You were listening."

"I was listening," she agreed, and stepped forward. "You know that many in Universe M4P2 will try to kill you to keep this from seeing the light of day, don't you?"

"Being on a heavily armed and armoured war-cruiser which randomly changes universes and has a regiment of Marines onboard with a Spectre leading them is my first line of defence," Nah'dur answered matter-of-factly. "I have several others of course."

"No doubt you do." Abebech leaned against the doorframe. "I have a request for you, daughter of the House of Dur."

"Yes?" Nah'dur's eyes narrowed at the precise sort of address.

"I gave you genetic samples."

"That's correct, you did. That's part of our agreement. And I have kept doctoring your medical files, just as we agreed."

Abebech's eyes shot up to the ceiling, but Nah'dur laughed.

"Don't worry, Commander, I have things set up so in my office the recordings are not accurate."

"So it is. You'll like the challenge, then." She extended a secured medical transport vial with a nano-refrigeration pack. "This is a genetic sample from a telepath who assisted Psi-Corps personnel during the late siege of Tau Atris. I'd like you to compare it to my own. It may make a recent event more coherent."

Nah'dur took the vial and looked at it. "So that's all? Just a comparison?"

"In particular of the telepath genes."

"Oh-ah, I see where this is going. The hypothesis that telepathy is impossible to evolve on its own."

"Correct."

"You'll have it. Maybe even by the end of this mission. They say it will last a while."

"Thank you, Surgeon-Commander."

"Oh, it's not a problem, Commander Imra. I like you."

"From you, I take that as a compliment," she answered, and turned away.

"Good." Nah'dur had her own suspicions about the Commander by now; but she knew the Commander had her own about _her,_ and so, to Nah'dur, the best outcome was companionable silence. She finished writing up her report to Wrex and sent it out.

Next, she turned her attention to her inbox. As they traveled further off the comms network, communications outside of the _Huáscar_ would become more and more spotty, and she wanted to check up on the last activity from her felinoid advocacy group. The last 'net video had twice as many views as the first, and Princess nar Sihkag was already proving to be an entertaining friend. Her connection there had led to some interesting dissemination of technology; the Bloodfang would make a nice replacement for their old Centauri models and Thoruns, now that the Kilrathi themselves couldn't build it anymore, but the Union certainly could.

 _Speaking of, you should get back to Teras Rimasi's message._ Nah'dur brought up the information from the Alacan woman. She was part of the small 'Survival Fraction' who had responded to the offer from Warmaster Shai'jhur for medical assistance with their reproduction (the rest would rather die than accept help from the Dilgar, and it was quite controversial), and Nah'dur intended to make a point about felinoid solidarity by restoring their complete viability. _Anything mother did, I can un-do._

* * *

Violeta was standing her turn as the Officer of the Watch as they approached the Cyrannus system. She was drinking coffee from a handleless Navy mug of the type that had become ubiquitous on the _Huáscar._ The gesture hid her nervousness. They didn't really understand what the subspace interference band was, nor its exact range of effect. Everything about it had been informed speculation from long-range passive sensors.

And they were rapidly approaching that barrier, whatever it was and whatever example it would take. "Reduce speed to Warp Three," she ordered Ensign Wilkins at her own normal station of the helm.

"Reducing to Warp Factor Three, Ma'am," Joanne Wilkins answered. "Warp field contracting…" The ship shuddered. "We're having problems stabilizing the Warp Field!"

Violeta tapped the comms open to engineering. "Engineering, this is the Bridge. Can we stabilize the warp field?"

Lieutenant Ker'ohk answered. " _Bridge,_ Lieutenant Ker'ohk, we're having trouble maintaining coherency in the Warp Field. If we reduce velocity but maintain power I may be able to force it to stabilize, but it will completely collapse above Warp Three, that is fact."

"Go to Warp Two with the power consumption of Warp Three and configure the field as you see fit," Violeta answered, feeling her fingers uncomfortably pressed into Captain Zhen'var's granite boards for armrests.

"Aye, Sir. I've summoned Commander Poniatowska to Engineering control."

Zhen'var arrived on the bridge a moment later. Commander Imra was on her heels. _They must have been having their weekly dinner together,_ Violeta mused for a moment as she rose. "Captain on the bridge!" The military call had become familiar for her by now.

"At ease," Zhen'var rejoindered. "Leftenant, report."

"We've entered a region in which we are suffering degradation of the warp field. It occurred shortly after we slowed to Warp Three as planned. We should be able to maintain it without the subspace matrix in the focusing crystals but we're having trouble with a field even here and are only holding Warp Two. There was a shudder when we entered the field."

"I noticed, Leftenant. Sound Condition Yellow."

"Condition Yellow," Violeta answered, activating the alarms. "All hands, this is the Officer of the Watch. Be ready for unexpected subspace turbulence. Set MC Yoke throughout the ship." She tapped off the comm as the alarms howled. "Captain," she continued, "do you want the ship?"

"No, Leftenant, you have the ship," Zhen'var answered, and gestured to the science station for Commander Imra, who followed her there. Ensign Oulata, the Alakin science officer of the third watch, was on duty.

"We're having more and more difficulty holding even a field at Warp Two stable, Captain," the Ensign reported.

"How far out are we?"

"About twelve hundred and thirty AU from the innermost star and closing rapidly. The system resembles almost nothing of Cyrannus, Captain, Commander, there's an extra primary and there's… Lots of tiny stars that shouldn't…"

"Enough of that, Ensign," Commander Imra said, softly, but firmly. "We have a bigger problem right now." Abebech tensed. "The subspace gradients."

"Yes, Ma'am." He brought them up quickly.

"There, look," she pointed.

"You're right," Zhen'var agreed, though her subspace physics were shabby at best, so she activated her omnitool. "Commander Poniatowska?"

"Captain?"

"Interface with the Bridge Science Console. What do you see?"

"The subspace equivalent of _shoal water,_ Captain! We can't hit that, it will break continuity of the warp field!"

Zhen'var watched them rapidly approaching the line. It looked to be located at about 1,225 AU from the white star at the centre of the system, and they were now only four and a half minutes from it. "Leftenant, when I give you a mark, you will bring the ship out of warp with the utmost alacrity."

"Captain," Violeta affirmed, and rose again to stand by her helm ensign. "Ensign Wilkins, stand by to execute."

Zhen'var raised a hand. "Stand by… Stand by… _Execute!_ "

"Drop out of warp," Violeta ordered.

"Zero-Zero!" Ensign Wilkins answered and the powerful drives of the _Huáscar_ de-powered their warp fields, the ship flinging to a relative stop. There was a rolling shudder through the hull.

Zhen'var and Abebech exchanged a look. Zhen'var tapped her omnitool again. "Commander Poniatowska, report."

"We nicked the edge of the field. It was within the ability of the drive dampers to deal with it, Captain."

"Thank you, Commander." Zhen'var looked at the displays. "They're communicating."

"Definitely, Captain," Ensign Oulata replied. "We've been picking up more and more evidence that. There is a complex, interplanetary civilisation. Interstellar if you want to be technical, it's spread through the entire cluster. But not with us. There _is_ some evidence of supralight communications capability."

"Despite the jamming field?" Zhen'var expressed some surprise.

"Yes, Captain, it.."

"Check the Iota band of hyperspace," Abebech said. "If my idea is right…"

"Yes, it looks like they're punching hyperspace comms through there, Ma'am," Oulata agreed.

"Curious and curiouser. So far your hypothesis has been spot-on, Commander Imra. You had some experience with similar technology back at home, I am inferring."

"Correct, Captain," Abebech replied modestly. "Which means I know what to do next, since it is our priority even to the exclusion of first contact."

"Agreed on that point," Zhen'var answered. "Go on."

"We can charge the Chambers coils on the warp drives and see the beginning of instability, then power down. We can keep repeating it on an arc from our current position. Use the shuttles, too. Once we've inscribed the approximate circumference of the arc from the angle of the field, and we have two discrete points along the arc…"

"We'll know the exact spatial location of the field generator and can set our course at impulse toward it," Zhen'var finished. "Concur. Leftenant Arterria, take your best guess for the next field position assuming an arc congruent with the system's dimensions as our first guess. Move to the next position and charge the Chambers coils." She tapped her comm and briefly explained what was going to happen to Anna.

"Well, Captain, I may need to replace the coils by the time this is done. Even with the automatic interlocks powering them down, the disruption field is serious."

"Do we have replacements?"

"Yes, enough for two failures a drive. But we only need to charge two drives at once, Captain, not all four."

"Excellent point. Leftenant, did you hear that?"

"Yes, Captain. We'll configure the drive for two nacelles at a time."

"Very good. Let's start to get to the bottom of this mystery." She looked at the system plot and the overlaid comparison of Cyrannus, and shook her head. "And what a mystery it is… Leftenant, take personal command of the helm, please, I want my best helmswoman for this. Commander Imra, you have the bridge."

"Of course, Captain."

* * *

The pilots and GIBs of the Wing were filled with rumours about what was going on as they made their long sublight burn in-system. In that sense, Artesia found them to be identical to the pilots on the _White Base._ Major Lar'shan, however, was adamant that they could launch at any time. With the Wing on alert, there was no booze and they were sleeping in bunks near the hangar. However, ten percent of the Wing was being released at any time to eat in the Mess or Cafe Varna, and it was Artesia's turn. Her bank account kept filling up with credits-her brother made sure she was getting a stipend-but she didn't really feel motivated to spend them, so the Mess it was.

She found Commander Elia Saumarez curled into two Dilgar wearing Mha'dorn pins that matched her own. The three were all clustered into something of a pile in a booth. In front of them was a large basket of something that looked sincerely good.

"Leftenant," Elia greeted. _Come have a seat?_

 _Thank you,_ Artesia answered. Communicating telepathically was still an experience that she struggled to adapt to. "What you're eating looks really good," she offered.

Va'tor, the mental hygienist, smiled lazily, which could be ominous in a Dilgar, except that she signified gentle welcome as Artesia sat across from them. _It's called Chicken 65. It's the Captain's favourite, and it's really good. Help yourself._

Artesia sat across from them and tried some. It was very good, and also very spicy. Her eyes widened for a moment. _Yes, good, but I need something to drink._ She got up and had the replicator get her a big glass of _Mare Rosso,_ the soft drink popular in Spain, and some buttered garlic bread, since she wasn't a carnivore, and returned to the table, offering the later to Elia.

 _Mmn, Carbs,_ Elia grinned.

Combat Master Gha'tir, from the fresh Marine company that Colonel Fei'nur had received, blinked dramatically. He reached over to Elia. _El'sau, you are ridiculous. That is not food._

 _There's a part of me that feels you're right,_ Elia agreed, and had more chicken. "It happens," she added for Artesia. "Gestalt with aliens, start thinking you're a carnivore."

"I admit, it's not an experience I've had yet," Artesia answered, carefully. "You all seem close."

"She's been among us Mha'dorn now long enough for her mental flavour, if you will, to overcome the sense of her being alien," Gha'tir explained.

"Just like we might be shipmates long enough for you to get used to my bare hands," Artesia offered to Elia, brushing her hair back.

"..." Elia blushed. "Artesia.."

"Yes, yes, I know it's serious. Still. The Dilgar have bare hands."

"Covered in fur," Elia protested, but she was smiling now. "I admit, it's hard. Our culture says: 'Oh merciful God, cover them up.' But I know intellectually it's something of an enforced disability. Also, in my case, a sign of identity and pride, as it is for many of us."

"Telepaths in Zeon don't have a culture distinct from Zeonic culture, of course. And we still are generally calling ourselves Newtypes, though it's all from me following things on the 'net. I won't pretend to be heavily involved with it, I'm not really sure I want to be."

"I would consider that a blessing, Artesia. Maybe now Zeon can find its way in peace."

"That's the plan," Artesia laughed softly, and had more of the chicken. It really was quite good. "What do you think about this mission?"

"Another usual display of wizardry on the part of Anna and Abebech," Elia answered. "Now we're heading at sublight toward the source of the distortion, and how they localised it was just utter brilliance. I may be a good operations officer, but I am _far_ behind on the science, and I know it."

"I think almost all of us feel that way," Artesia admitted. "It was neat to think about how Minovsky Physics fit into the schema of the Multiverse, but it also pushes the limits of what I understand."

 _Oh look, they've started talking science,_ Va'tor declared melodramatically.

Artesia heard it that time and waved. _Guilty as charged._

 _I suppose enough of that. Anyway, Artesia, it's healthy for me to learn to respect different kinds of telepath cultures. Commander Imra sort of spoiled me with those spectacular gloves she always wears, even if they wouldn't meet regulation in the Corps._

 _What_ is _up with her? Other telepaths from her home universe don't wear gloves. I've seen images._

 _To be honest, my working hypothesis is that she's a human-Zigonian chimaera. They exist to enhance human telepathic powers. She's_ ** _strong,_** _and an incorrect number of digits on her hands could be hidden by custom gloves, and she never lets anyone see her eyes. But she's tall and her proportions are normal, which isn't the case with normal hybrids. So I'm not sure._

 _Huh. Well, she is polite, but reserved._

 _It's the reserved part that's hard. I know you weren't raised with other telepaths so you're not used to it yourself, but the bonds formed are hard and fast,_ Va'tor explained. _Probably we Mha'dorn are some of the only Dilgar really comfortable around aliens because of it. And it just seems odd that Commander Imra isn't the same._

 _Respect her difference, too?_ Artesia ventured with a shrug. She felt the tug of loneliness, away from her brother, away from Amuro, but she had dealt with it, and expected she would continue to deal with it.

 _I'd be terrified not to!_

* * *

Will was standing watch as the _Huáscar_ powered further into the vast system, the days slowly passing by as more details of the system were revealed. Some of the stars looked hauntingly familiar, the stars of his people. But this was not the Cyrannus he had grown up in. It was something else, now with a single new star and the orbits perturbed to be organised around that single great Type A star with more than twice the mass of Sol. He recognized that as Helios Alpha - Sun A, literally, in his native language, proof of the artificial means by which they had come to exist in Cyrannus. There was Helios Beta, Helios Delta, Helios Gamma, the four suns of Cyrannus. But in the outer system was a blue star which did not belong here, and a half-dozen lesser suns glowed, strange proto-stars that Fera'xero was still aggressively analyzing. The system was a wonder.

An artificial wonder, their onboard scientists began to suspect. From start to finish it seemed engineered. That left Will with the unsettling question of whether or not Cyrannus itself was engineered. _Maybe they just got more ambitious here._ The comms staff was still trying to break through to the Iota band that most of the communications worked through. They were coasting at c-fractional velocities now, having reached a speed which could carry them across the expansive system in fifteen days. There was no need for further engine power that would cause more time dilation and diminishing returns that would make it harder to slow down.

Abebech's reconnaissance method had already proved that the jamming effect was not actually centred on the system, not even close to it. Instead it stood well off in one quadrant near one of the proto-stars. That was the current destination of their course, cutting at an angle across the system.

It was Lieutenant Richards at Ops who gave him the warning. "Commander… We've got a force of seventeen ships of varying tonnage and design burning to intercept us. They're moving in from the outermost proto-star, and we won't be able to evade while continuing toward our target."

Will's face tightened. He had hoped for a hail or some other kind of friendly communication as they worked to decode the communications of this system. Hopefully ones familiar to his own tongue. Instead… "Open contact."

"Sir, standing directives from the Captain for this operation were to maintain comms silence…" CPO Bor'eri reminded him at comms.

"They clearly know we're here, Chief."

"Sir." A moment later, the answer came back as what his gut had feared it would be: "No response, Sir."

"Again." He activated the control on the command chair which sent the Condition Yellow signal throughout the ship. "All hands, this is the XO speaking. Condition Yellow, set modified Zebra throughout the ship." He killed the comm, knowing it would bring Zhen'var running from her sea cabin moments later. "Lieutenant Richards, shields up, weapons to standby, but do not bring batteries to full power or energize targeting sensors. Chief Bor'eri?"

"Aye-aye sir," Richards answered.

"Still no response, Sir," The Dilgar Chief confirmed.

"Again."

This time, Bor'eri decided he would use a tight-beam laser instead of conventional hailing, since the Commander clearly wanted to _talk_ to the potential enemies, and the comm hails weren't working. That produced a much more immediate effect.

" _Sir,_ " Richards frowned. "They're adjusting their course and increasing thrust. Intercept heading."

The doors to the bridge from the Captain's Sea Cabin and Ready Room opened. "Will, what do we have?" Zhen'var looked as fully composed and ready as ever.

Commander Will Atreiad shook his head. _So much for a peaceful contact with a people I thought might be my closest cousins._ He popped his knuckles. "The locals have found us, Sir, and their idea of a welcoming party is burning hard on a sublight intercept vector."


	25. Episode 5 Act 2

**Act 2**

"Very well. You may keep the conn, Commander." Zhen'var had a pensive look on her face as she moved to stand behind her chair.

"Understood, Captain." A moment later his omnitool chimed. Since they were holding their parasite craft in reserve, here so far from home, not wanting to give away their full strength, Commander Imra had taken secondary command.

"They are on an intercept course," Lieutenant Richards confirmed. "Not a single one of the ships is identical. I think they're all armed merchants, but some show very high power-mass ratios. It's also going to be fifteen minutes until they're in weapons range."

Daria had reached tactical and took over, the Dorei's fingers skittering over the board as she completed a review of the situation. "Charge on cannon banks good, shields nominal, Sir."

"I'm going to go to Condition Red in another five minutes, Captain," Will rested his hands on the granite. It was comfortably warm; he had discovered Zhen'var's heater setting under it. "Ops, do we have a visual?"

Richards tightened her baseball cap lower on her head and shifted the controls. "Yessir. Bringing it on." Following the principle of directives, not orders, the answer to Will's question was not simply a yes or no, but a solution to the implied, or desired, outcome.

The image that came on the screen was of a rag-tag collection of interplanetary ships. Some rusted, some were relatively new, all were heavily modified, many with massive additional thrust-blocks.

"Do we have mass assessments on them?" Will asked, frowning. They looked like a rag-tag band of pirates, really. One could see where the guns had been added.

"Yes, Sir; they're all under seven hundred kilotons."

Will nodded and looked at his chrono. It was time. He flipped the control over to the outmost setting. The bridge lights went red and the klaxon howled. "Condition Red, General Quarters! All hands, man your battlestations! Set MC ZEBRA throughout the ship!"

"Captain has the deck." Zhen'var spoke softly, stepping forward as the klaxons sounded. Combat was in the offing, and she would be the one to give the order.

"I stand relieved, Ma'am." Will rose and stepped to the side chair. All the presumptive enemy ships were still thrusting toward them. Behind him, Elia assumed her position at Ops, having arrived from sleep just in time for the closing of the bulkhead hatches and spacetight doors.

"Three fighter squadrons on Ready Five, the rest of the wing is standing to ready ten and will be there in six minutes," Elia reported. "All compartments secure, full military power available, all weapons charged and ready. With Commander Imra at Secondary Control, we have the _Heermann_ at Alert Ten under Goodenough."

"Begin escalation of force procedures." Zhen'var moved to sit, strapping herself in. _Shout, show, shove, shoot to warn, shoot to kill. Divine, but they are going to take it to the last._

"We have already cleared the first S. De-accelerate rapidly to show our ability to dictate the terms of engagement," Will told Violeta.

Violeta keyed in the commands for a complex set of manoeuvres while violently de-accelerating. As planned, the ship didn't feel it internally, but as they reduced from their ballistic trajectory, they opened the time to weapons range with the prospective enemy and showed that they weren't a dead, unresponsive barge, but a responsive and handy cruiser. The enemy responded by coming about to correct for the engagement parabolic.

"Second S down… they're continuing to present a hostile posture. Continue warning them off and set course directly for them. Warn them that we have the right to transit this open space," Elia explained. This was, to the Alliance, interstellar space and anyone could be in it, though she felt this immense system was treated as one whole by those who lived in it.

"Shove?" Violeta asked.

"We'll do it literally if we come into tractor range before they open fire," Will answered. It was a truly by the book interpretation of the book for a starship. But they were far from home, and wanted to give every opportunity to de-escalate. "Captain, they really don't seem like a regular military force. They're not holding formation and there's no sign of communications yet."

"We still haven't cracked the encoding of the high band network comms in this system through hyperspace. They might be using that to communicate," Elia speculated, "but we're not going to have enough time to make sure. Tactical," she addressed Daria, "plan on it being a ruse d'guerre."

"Understood, Ops. Approaching tractor range in one minute."

"Expect the worst." Zhen'var interjected. "This looks like a charging _horde_."

"It does, doesn't it?" Will stared at the image, continuously updated to the changing size with distance, deceptively making it look like the ships weren't gaining on them. _Enough of that. It's bad for tactical picture._ "Ops, get us something better."

Elia brought up a three-d rectified tactical plot on the viewscreen instead. "Fifteen seconds. They're holding fire or they don't have the range, Captain."

"Standing by with tractor beam…" Daria sang out. "We'll bump the largest. Ops, brace for impact."

"Sound collision," Elia noted and activated the controls. Five sharp blasts cut through the intercom.

"And… Pushing." Violeta activated the tractor beam with steadily ramping force. Tractor beams were not meant to be used against onrushing objects regularly, but Zhen'var had insisted on drilling to use the tractor beam as a weapon in its own right, and in particular as a less-than-lethal weapon for a starship. The issue was the _shock_ this could cause to the using vessel, which would after all have to accept the change in momentum.

But the _Huáscar_ was much larger than her target. The cruiser shuddered and bucked beneath them, and the engines screamed to briefly counterbalance the surge of momentum against their course. The _target_ went flying, bodily pushed back and tumbling out of the loose, disordered formation of the other sixteen ships.

"Shove," Elia murmured. Ahead of them, the remaining sixteen vessels still came on, and despite the lack of a coherent formation, the seventeenth brought her engines up to full power and boosted hard to catch up, as if completely unaffected by the blow. As she did, though, the others started to spread out in an englobing manoeuvre.

"Warning shots, expect this _not to work,_ we may be moving quickly to firing in earnest." Zhen'var's voice cracked out as she tightened her restraints.

Daria quickly planned an impressive barrage, and sent the guns to peak recharge while they were not being fired upon. She activated the pattern and sent fire from the main and secondary batteries lancing around the ships in a display designed to shock and awe them with coordination, precision, and the energy in the beams. It was far more than just warning shots, it was a deadly warning of just what the _Huáscar_ 's batteries could do.

Every single one of the unknown ships went to full thrust, coiling back in like a flower closing back up. As they did, they opened fire.

"Tactical, you are _fire free_ , helm, evasive action!" The Captain watched the repeaters as the weapons flared. _Are they_ _ **suicidal**_ _?_

The _Huáscar_ 's ship's power flickered. Elia's face turned baleful as she leaned down toward her console. "Very precise weapons fire. Directed EMP burst packets-those weapons are intended to disable, not destroy. I'm adjusting the shields to compensate to avoid those pinpoint surges."

Violeta was spinning the _Huáscar_ through a series of tight snap-rolls to try and evade the incoming fire, but the swarm stayed with them, their weapons never missing against such a massive target. They were optimised to engage much smaller ships and that made the _Huáscar_ a sitting duck… Except for the fact that the energy shields were like nothing they had encountered. The EMP weapons were directly draining them, but the sheer power of the naqia reactors fronting them made this no easy challenge.

Daria chose to open fire with energy weapons only. They were far, far from home, and if this entire system went hot against them, they needed to conserve torpedoes except for the direst of emergencies. She selected the full banks of Model 1 and 2 Plasma Cannon and Pulse Emitters and directed the fire of _fifty-four_ energy weapons against the biting globe of gnats which surrounded them.

Daria didn't waste time diverting fire among many different targets, either. She used the computers to concentrate the batteries on one per primary arc, and then opened fire. The eruption of pulses and bolts of plasma cannon fire at relatively short ranges turned the space around the _Huáscar_ into a continuous sheet of energy. As it did, three of Daria's four targets failed to evade.

The ships struck were carved viscerally by the concentration of fire. Mostly converted merchantmen and without shields, they had no resistance. Flames from the venting atmosphere igniting under the enormous heat of the plasma rippled along shattered hulls and bulkheads and in one case a reactor detonated outright, completely destroying the hulk.

"Shields holding at ninety percent, Captain," Elia reported. "Captain, one of the largest just kicked her engines to _full burn-_ collision course!"

"They are trying to _board._ Ops, helm, evade!" _This makes no sense…!_

A second ship thrust forward as the second was caught with tractors. She was going much too fast than even to board. Daria opened fire with every weapon that could bear to port, including torpedoes this time. The first ship, caught in the tractor beams by Elia, was bracketed in tremendous explosions, and despite being larger than the ships destroyed before, and better protected, perhaps a real warship, started to come apart as forty torpedoes detonated along her flanks.

The second ship was taken by the energy weapons in a massive bracketing of fire which ripped down her flanks, but even as a burning ruin she plunged on. Venting vapourised hull plating turned to plasma and atmosphere burning as flame before it dissipated into space, the ruin carried on and bodily slammed into the shields of the _Huáscar._ The shock through the hull, striking on the lower part of the shields, was transmitted by the generators and sent her rolling to port on her beam ends as a massive explosion of the reactor overcharging in the wreck and detonating with the fusion of her fuel supplies spread along the shields, the energy barrier distorting the explosion down the length of the cruiser, and catching on the curve of the shields bucking her back up to level as Violeta fought to keep her under control.

Daria grimaced as she rocked against the straps in her chair, and the batteries were firing again, she managed to destroy another to starboard as these two had gone in, and now there were only eleven… And moments later only eight as again her heavy guns spoke.

"Primary and secondary shields have failed, Captain! The EMP bursts are now severely disrupting cohesion of the remaining shield layer," Elia reported crisply. She didn't bother to report the casualties or the damage to the primary shield generators' mountings, Nah'dur and Anna would respectively handle those and they weren't important to Zhen'var's tactical picture at the moment.

"Helm, get us some distance if possible. Colonel, stand to, the order is repel boarders. Weapons, do your best to keep them off. We are facing _suicidal fanatics._ "

"Marines standing by to repel boarders," Fei'nur's voice echoed.

"Tac, watch those ones coming in close," Will called as he looked at the tactical plot. They swooped in, and Daria only nailed two of them. The massive batteries of the _Huáscar_ were still sufficient to send them straight to hell at point-blank range.

The other two opened fire with _plasma cutters,_ mining ship equipment for chopping up asteroids… Point-blank, but enormously powerful because of their limited range and recycling energy configuration, they tore at the _Huáscar_ 's deranged shields as they de-accelerated only tens of meters from the hull.

 _This is about to get far worse._ "Evasive!"

"Helm, break to port!" Elia called as she shifted controls. Violeta instinctually followed her, because it seemed like Elia had a plan, even though that brought them even closer to the two ships, as the shields suddenly surged with over-power through the tertiary generators and the shields slammed into the active plasma cutters, driving a massive energy feedback into the systems of the two small attackers. As they did, there were two enormous explosions along the port aft quarter, shaking the _Huáscar_ like a bone in the mouth of a dog as both of them detonated from the impact and energy feedback tearing their thin hulls to pieces.

"We were going to lose the shields no matter what, Captain, better to take them with the generators," Elia justified herself simply.

"Ops, stand by to transport," Daria called out, her ears flexing as she hastily began arming sequences. "Captain, we can finish this before they board." The starboard cannons finished another as the rest concentrated to port. "Stand by to transport torpedoes aboard." _Just like against the Daleks…_

"On it!" Elia answered. This was Crew Resource Management at its finest, as Violeta kept the ship shifting through her manoeuvres. They didn't need orders to act. Zhen'var's little Intent revolution was actually bearing fruit.

"Torpedoes armed. Mark!" Daria called out.

Elia activated the transporters remotely and then watched the confirmation lights go green. "Fire in the hole!"

Daria pushed the remote detonation override. The attacking swarm vanished in bright white flashes of energy from within. Clouds of debris and plasma were overcome by the spreading light of reactors detonating and exploding and the spreading energy of the torpedoes. As it faded, only the two largest remaining ships were still extant, both of them with big gashes in their sides, tumbling and disabled without main power.

The battle, as sharp as it had been, was abruptly over.

"Local tactical picture?" Zhen'var's hands clenched her armrests tightly. "If clear, stand down for damage control."

"Two cripples, all other ships destroyed," Elia confirmed. "No ships detected in local sensor range. Permission to lead one of the boarding parties, Captain? There are survivors on both hulks." She reduced the ship to Condition Yellow - damage control stations - MC Zebra still set to permit isolation of damage.

"Let the marines go first, but I can take one of the prize crews and Commander Saumarez the other," Abebech offered from secondary control.

"Permission is granted. Full protective measures, medical and tactical, Colonel. No-one _sane_ acts as they have."

"Understood. One platoon against target should be sufficient to suppress even fanatical resistance," Fei'nur answered back. "Full armour and rebreathers."

"The life-forms do read as human," Elia noted cooly as she rose to report to Transporter 1 and handed Ops back over to Lieutenant Richards.

"Then let us find out just who has attacked us…" Zhen'var would say, as Elia entered the lift.

* * *

Of all the things that Bikie might have expected on boarding the crippled enemy ship, the abrupt full-throated attack on his platoon took them all and doubled it. They held nothing back; they were hideously scarred, sore-covered monsters in a mixture of rags and armours, with skin dirtied and blackened, screaming hideous screams. And they attacked to capture. With a moment, his command squad was in a fight for its life.

"SHOVEL, this is BIKIE, Platoon Hotel Company A, under heavy attack!" His gun screamed with pulse fire and he went silent for a moment. "They're fanatics who keep attacking with incoherent screams even when half of them has been blown off!"

"SHOVEL copies." Fei'nur turned to her command team. "Send in the mines first, clear the TZs, full weapons release. Deploy heavy squads, _now_."

Autonomous mines were sent forward into the mass to detonate, giving time for each ship to be reinforced by a squad of marines in power armour. Their heavy weapons chopped through a mass which could not get purchase on them, though it was instantly a fight in melee conditions despite the initial clearing, so fast were they on them.

Abebech's voice came over the comms. "Shovel, this is Ray-ban. I believe Leather and I can be of material assistance to getting prisoners and intel in this circumstance."

"If you wish to go into that, Commander, let me at least get them out of melee with my Marines!"

Down in the transporter room, Elia, listening to the conversation, grimaced. She was sure to some extent that Abebech was right, speaking from another transporter closer to secondary control (the ship was still buttoned down), but even in armour with a carbine and rebreather she questioned facing down these man-beasts. Still, she understood what Abebech meant. They could telepathically disable the enemy.

"Your discretion, Colonel," Abebech replied mildly.

"Stand by, you'll have five seconds. Bikie, call for the Mha'dorn as soon as you have a TZ for them."

"Rought. On it, Shovel." He waved his hand forward. "Squad, move out! Provide covering fire for the parms!"

Using the power armoured squad as the frontal force, his command squad provided rifle fire at range around them, risky in the confined space but needed. The energy weapons scoured the hull but did not bunch through, and that was good, because the buckled plates were as thin and weak as hell, and they were using their bottles due to reduced oxygen as it was, beyond the risk of disease.

Behind them, three more of his squads bunched up around their heavy weapons to keep the ground they'd already gained.

Covering and fire in turn, the squad of Power Armour, split into two teams of four each, rolled down the two corridors. Occupying them shoulder to shoulder, they fired pulse cannon in fire boxes down the corridor, slaughtering their attackers and pinning them in place.

As they advanced, they used special shaped charges to open the bulkheads between them for intercommunication. The rifles behind them did precision shots whenever they had an opening. Discipline began to tell on lunatic fanaticism, even as again and again attackers flung themselves onto the close-combat nano filament blades of the power armour. When they reached the next set of cross-corridors, they halted.

"All right, Shovel, this is Bikie. We've got the TZ open and clear. They can't handle a disciplined power armour advance."

On the second ship, the effort was duplicated, even if the different configuration meant that a main internal lift was being used as the secure point; the rocket thrusters on the power armour suits letting them jump from floor to floor to secure it. Lieutenant Ke'ter confirmed her position ready a moment later, as well.

"Ray-Ban, Leather, teleporting in five, four, three, two, one, _mark_." Fei'nur's voice was clipped and sharp as she tried to coordinate this unexpectedly difficult pair of boarding actions.

Both women, on hearing the plan and Fei'nur's interpretation of it, had only been able to steel themselves and be ready for imminent combat. The Dilgar Battlemaster's objective was overwhelming speed and total disorientation for their enemies.

The moment the two went in, the wounded were beamed out, transferred directly to sickbay. Nah'dur had everything ready for them and went to work stabilising and evaluating immediately.

Fei'nur would be following shortly, as soon as she could be in the fray without having to use her blades herself. "Keep pushing forward, Marines! Commanders, these are worse than Drazi!"

The reinforcement squads were simply overwhelming the enemy with raw numbers in small ships that were not heavily crewed-and had taken casualties-to begin with. It was also a truism that any force of barbarians could not stand against troops in regular order, and now with more than a full company deployed they had two hundred personnel on the ships.

Communicating by omnitool, Abebech and Elia had agreed that main engineering on each ship was their principle objective, and they'd peeled off squads in that direction. It was obvious to both women that the main threat was of a detonation of the reactor, even though both ships had lost power and their fusion bottles weren't actively _fusing._

* * *

The markings on the corridors of the ships, though in poor condition, were legible, a strange mix of English and Chinese that was still obvious enough to point them toward engineering spaces in ships that showed, as they moved through them, increasing scenes of horror. Human and animal bones were everywhere, piled into strange decorations, skulls hanging from ropes, pelts and human skins displayed as trophies and as simple piles of blankets for sleeping.

Even the Dilgar found it to be… _disconcerting_ , and any hesitation the boarders felt was long since gone.

Everyone, that was, except for Abebech Imra. She coolly advanced at the head of the squad, several times shooting down their attackers with quick off-angle shots that showed how precise of a fighter and killer she was. She gazed through her sunglasses a few times at the vicious, barbaric artwork and then carried on.

At main engineering on the ship she was boarding, the ship's crew tried one more rush as the Alliance marines burned through the defending bulkhead doors. Breaching was always a dangerous activity, and Abebech ordered the Dilgar corporal back. "It's quite all right. I'll mind it," she answered. The timer on the breaching charge reached zero and it exploded. The door collapsed inward, and Abebech turned, utterly unconcerned, just in time for the surge of attackers to reach her, stepping over their fallen comrades who had been knocked down by the falling blast door.

The squad stared as she picked one up by the neck with a whipcord motion of one of her gloved hands that was almost too fast to track. It screamed hideously and clawed at her, but Abebech continued to lift it, easily two feet off the ground, her black leather clad hand compressing like so much of a hydraulic vise until the struggling began to stop. Behind them, the others pressed in, just to halt abruptly. Vibrating in place, they dropped their knives and cudgels and began to fall, trying to resist with their muscles and unable, to their knees. Twelve of them.

"Secure prisoners," Abebech snapped. She cocked her arm back and then flung the struggling former human flying through the air over his telepathically disabled comrades to slam into the far bulkhead of the engineering spaces with a sickening crack.

The Marines didn't hesitate after hearing that tone of voice from Commander Imra, and they pushed in to truss up prisoners, hand and foot, and get muzzles on the same.

Abebech brushed off her gloves and then adjusted her sunglasses. "I'm going to the bridge."

"We'll get you an escort, ma'am." the Dilgar Marine NCO near her growled, marking off four armed figures. "Even if I'm not sure you need it, Commander."

"That will do. Thank you." A trace of a smile touched her lips. "My only concern is for Commander Saumarez and the other ship."

* * *

At that moment, Elia was finding herself in the fight of her life. Pressing on to engineering on the first ship, she had found herself under full assault by a large group of the monstrous not-humans. She had been _trained_ for this! Rigorously drilled to use her telepathic abilities in combat.

She was strong enough that as a skilled telepath she could make real use of them too. Groups of the _Reavers_ would rush her, seeking to take her, to rape her, to maim her, to kill her, to plunder all that she was and eat her. She would shut down their motor functions, and the Marines with her would exploit. Again, and again. Her pistol fired over and over-it was almost automatic-and she p'heard the scream of the open-shut door, for even these beasts had souls.

But the sheer horror that she was experiencing was distracting her. These creatures contained the memories of a human, memories in which every kind of nightmare and atrocity had been inflicted upon the old and young alike, on captured soldiers and little children. _Nothing_ was spared, except for the rude structure of order that their dominance fights imposed on their society. And yet, inside, they were still human beings.

The problem with the fight, why it was a fight for her life, was the sickness she felt with each contact with their minds. Skin perpetually green and flushed clammy with cold sweat, she tried to keep from screwing up again, and again. And each time she had to enter their minds, to disable or outright in a few cases to destroy, while withdrawing in time, in the midst of the frenzy of fire, to keep from being in contact with the monstrosity of their souls as they died. The idea of doing a necroscan on one of these creatures revolted her more the longer she was in contact with them.

Around her, the Marines advanced to seize Engineering. She shifted to help take the bridge. The fighting began to die down. There was a blur of weapons fire, of Marines coming to give orders. "Yes, follow the Chinese symbols for sector eight there," she'd tell one Dilgar, "and reinforce Zeta Platoon." But the words barely wrote to her memory. Finally, Elia dropped to her knees and threw up on the deck below the bridge. The overwhelming feeling of sickness and horror pounded into her until the entire blurry parade of fighting seemed like a picture that someone had dumped black paint over.

There was a confused sense of something happening, as a figure dropped to a knee beside her, a hand clapping firmly on her shoulder, a mental shout, met with an audible, hissed whisper. " _El'sau. El'sau!_ "

El'sau, Elia, looked up and blinked widely. A steady, determined face looked back. A Dilgar face. "...Fei'nur?"

The grizzled old Colonel leaned in close. "Are you _all right_? These monsters have to be hard on a Mha'dorn." She was already fishing through a pack on her hip.

"They kill, maim, rape, eat everyone, from the old to the young, perhaps if you're very lucky in that order," Elia rasped. "Their victims call them Reavers and they call themselves the Fearless."

Fei'nur simply continued to take the hypospray out and pressed it into Elia's neck, before putting a hand on her shoulder. It was a struggle for Fei'nur to feel compassion toward humans, but with El'sau it was easier than all the others, even Ka'var.

The drug began to work immediately on her brain, and with a look of ready thanks, El'sau extended her gloved hand to Fei'nur. "Thank you. Gods, thank you."

Fei'nur took it, and squeezed. "I doubt you want the flask right now. Afterwards, at least. As soon as you're ready to go, El'sau. These _monsters_ have to be put down, if we won't get anything from it, I'm not going to worry about taking any."

"I already must have helped take at least thirty prisoners. We scarcely need more. They're on the bridge? The rest of the ship is clear?"

A quick check of Fei'nur's tactical display led to El'sau getting a nod of affirmation in response.

"Well, if we've got them isolated, I suggest we do one better. We do take prisoners. The easy way, Colonel." She activated her omnitool. "Leftenant Richards, this is Leather."

"Ma'am?"

"Beam every single life sign on the top deck of the ship directly into active cells in the brig." There was a particularly savage look on Elia's face. "The only thing I hate more than keeping them alive right now is the idea of _playing fair_ with them, Colonel. They're all in one place, no need for target differentiation."

"Do it. And alert Medical. This is _not normal_. Full isolation protocols in the brig, Lieutenant." Fei'nur added.

"Full isolation protocols in the brig," Richards confirmed. Rumours were already spreading like wildfire and concern was in her voice.

"Don't worry, Leftenant, we're quite all right," Elia assured her.

"Understood. Transports complete, Commander."

Elia nodded. "Go ahead and breach the bridge entrance at your leisure, Ma'am," she said to Fei'nur. Her omnitool crackled with noise. "Rayban to White, we have our prize."

Elia tapped off her omnitool as Fei'nur had returned from giving the order to her breaching team. "Colonel… I don't think Commander Imra was fazed in the slightest. She sounds as calm as a peach. And she's a stronger telepath than I am." Elia was quietly shaking her head.

"Long experience, I think. I'll let you know when I have the bridge, Commander." Standing, Fei'nur stalked ahead, to lead her Marines through the last bulkhead.

* * *

Somewhat more than three hours later, the senior officers had gathered in Conference Suite 1. Daria had the conn for the meeting. Elia was sitting quietly at the table, pouring cream over a scone and drinking her tea. She had an intensely blank expression on her face. Across from her, Abebech was quietly sipping a demitasse of coffee. The two women didn't look at each other, but they didn't seem tense, either.

Nah'dur paced by the holo-projector like a nervous bundle of energy. She barely stopped when Zhen'var and Will arrived, but she did stop completely when Fei'nur arrived. Still wearing her medical coat, she looked like so much of a professor.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Can anyone provide some more information on just _what_ or _whom_ we have encountered, please?"

Just as Nah'dur was about to start, the doors opened again. Commander Poniatowska came in with Chief Dugan following her. She was in her engineering overhauls, streaked with grease, and so was he. The only way to tell the officer apart from the Chief was that she had taken the time to toss her Engineer's vest on; they both had coffee. "Sorry for being late, Captain. I was responsible for detaining Chief Dugan. We had to finish jacking one of the shield generators off the shock mountings and replacing them. It took a bit longer than I expected when I said it could make it. Full shield power has now been restored."

"Excellent, I am glad to hear it. Be seated, please. I am hoping to get some more information on just who or what has attacked us."

Nah'dur began to raise her hand, but Elia spoke first, and Nah'dur paused and slowly lowered her hand. "Captain," Elia said, "They're called Reavers. They terrorise the planetary systems of 'The Verse' with rape, plunder, cannibalism and murder."

"They thought we were a new kind of Government battleship coming to intrude upon their territory. They suffered grievous losses some months ago in a hard-fought engagement with a large Government fleet which they almost defeated, when beforehand they had been ignored by the Government, which is strong in the inner systems, as they terrorised the outer systems," Abebech added after a moment of uneasy silence. "After the destruction of this group, there are very few left. When the Government won its doubtful contest, it made sure none escaped."

"So there _is_ some central government, with very weak control over the outer systems, and these are… cannibal… pirate monsters." She slowly blinked. "There being very few is a clearly good thing, then."

"Ahh, but Captain," Nah'dur addressed Zhen'var directly, "They're not _natural_ cannibal-pirate-monsters. The moment one of them arrived I had it transported to sickbay in one of my isolation chambers and got to work. I already have an answer."

" _Do…_ go on, Surgeon-Commander."

"Their brains were exposed to a hydrochlorate chemical of a unique composition I haven't seen before," Nah'dur said, bringing up a set of chemical charts on the holoprojector and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. "As it happens, this is a very complicated chemical which, when crossing the blood-brain barrier, destroys most of the brain pathways that are triggered by chemical release from the adrenal glands. In short, it should in principle make most humans cease to function and die within a period of days or weeks. All well and good!"

"However, the individuals in question-once I saw what had happened to the first I took samples from the others, which we're keeping sedated by direct neural-electrical inhibition, since nothing else will work-are all sociopathic, or at least have the genes for it. Those neural pathways were unaffected and in fact the chemical remains permanently concentrated in those areas of the brain, serving as a sort of saline distribution channel for adrenaline. In short, it's like all normal emotional impulses are destroyed _and_ the subject is receiving injections of continuous synthetic adrenaline into the centres of the brain primarily responsible, with their genes, for narcissism and dehumanisation of other sapients. Really, the only curious thing is why someone went around exposing a large population to exotic hydrochlorates for no good reason. Or for completely daft reasons, anyway. I can't think of any good ones."

"By how they act, Surgeon-Commander, they are likely amongst the first victims, and whomever ordered it would likely prefer that it never be known.

"Some of them are turned by the others by absolutely hideous tortures I don't want to repeat," Elia interjected. "How does that fit?"

"Probably by ritualised cannibalism," Nah'dur answered promptly. "There are many cultures which engage in ritualised cannibalism of their own dead, if they chose someone to become one of them-perhaps they can smell humans who have sociopathic tendencies, pheremonally-then they could begin the conversion process, and end it with an initiation ritual, for instance, which requires eating the brains of their own fallen. Their society certainly results in a high turnover rate, no need to murder their own, the wastage from, well, reaving, would be quite enough! But it's certainly not contagious in the conventional sense."

Elia looked nauseated. "She's not wrong, Captain. In fact, I think she's right. I saw far too much of them, inside of them."

"I saw as well," Abebech confirmed simply.

"I… see. This system is… _horrifying_. Will, I am _very glad_ this does not appear to be some mirror of your people."

"Well, what is this Government?" Will was frowning. "I mean, we don't have any history of such a thing in Cyrannus. In my Cyrannus. But what is this government? We have evidence of the use of descendants of English and Chinese?"

"Correct, Commander," Elia agreed. "I'm not sure. Some of the … _converted_ … Reavers might, though."

"OH! Speaking of which," Nah'dur leaned forward on the table. "I actually think we can stabilise them. I mean, they do communicate, and have enough of a hierarchy to control starships. They're still sapient. A Mha'dorn should be able to reprogram their personality to make them respond to adrenal signalling differently, perhaps as panic for instance, and then we can control the panic with normal anti-anxiety medication. We might actually be able to make one of them into a communicating being again, and then interrogate it. I'd like to try it, Captain."

A few of Zhen'var's officers were given each other looks ranging from confused to mildly concerned across the table at that point. Arterus in particular looked rather baleful. Elia's lips were firmly pursed, though.

"That Mha'dorn _must_ volunteer with _full knowledge of the risk_ , and I want you to assemble an ad-hoc REC to review before proceeding, Surgeon-Commander. You are flirting with things on the edge… Commander, you have something to offer?"

"Well, actually, as uncomfortable as it makes me, I think she's right. I could p'hear their deaths just like anyone else's, I could p'hear the screams of their minds and see them go … _beyond,_ just like a healthy, normal person," Elia explained. "Commander Imra?" Elia looked across the table for support. She had never gotten it before, and many people at the table were a little uncomfortable at the description of the lived telepathic experience.

Abebech leaned in and set her cup down. She'd changed to a pair of long white gloves. "Commander Saumarez is correct," she said, surprising Elia most of all as she continued. "Their minds are those of the living, the essence of their reality is much the same. The Surgeon-Commander's proposal is, quite frankly, the first time anyone has proposed a cure, in the minds of those I have seen. Even if her youth means she presents it in a way that comes off awkwardly, the intention can only be described as good. I am not really sure it is worth living after you have done such things, even when you cannot help it; but unless the Surgeon-Commander is allowed to try, we might as well shoot them all, for their own sakes. They are living beings, and they deserve more compassion than Nazis, for their crimes were committed under profound mental impairment."

"Have our Mental Hygienist on stand-by, then. If the REC comes back positive, which I think it will, you may proceed, Surgeon-Commander. That was good, original thinking."

"Thank you, Captain! I'll be right about it!"

Lar'shan leaned in from his seat at the table. "Captain. The government that did this… Organization, agency, terrorist group, whatever we have. We're going to find them, aren't we?"

"That is the goal, Wing Commander. We are our own little island of the Alliance here, and _Divine_ , but anyone who _ignored_ this, much less _condoned_ or _caused_ it?" Disdain coloured her voice as Zhen'var spoke, eyes flashing with restrained anger.

" _So Say We All!"_ Will declared, standing up. One by one, and then in unison, the others rose, and repeated it. " _So Say We All!_ " After months of gelling together, all alone in the night, the _Huáscar_ 's officers spoke with one voice.

And then the bridge comm trilled. "Captain, this is Lieutenant Seldayiv," Daria's voice came over the comm, crisp but urgent. "There's a ship heading for us, a small, fast merchant type, on a course at a transect to those of the attackers."

"Move to intercept. I want answers from someone who has _not_ been turned into a mad, psychopathic cannibal."


	26. Episode 5 Act 3

**Act 3**

As they departed the Conference Suite to head to their stations, Elia hung back with Abebech for a moment. "Thank you, Commander. I know it was hard for you as well and I know that you normally don't talk about such things. But it meant a lot for you to confirm and support me on this issue. It must have been very hard for you. Or perhaps it would have, once upon a time, at least. I know you have seen much."

"Thank you, Commander Saumarez. That is correct. There was a time when this would have badly disturbed me. I hope, in the main, there was a time when this would have badly disturbed anyone. However, I am fine right now, and the only wisdom I can offer is that by remaining utterly focused on your _moral objectives,_ the principles which drive you to endure these sights, you will, in time, handle these matters more calmly."

"That's why you're as scary as hell to a lot of people, Commander," Elia smiled wryly. "Most people think that…"

"The characteristic of a fanatic, I know." Abebech actually smiled back. "The difference is that I still have a sense of humour and make-or at least keep-friends across the aisle. But the objective remains the same. Commander, you're a brave and capable woman. The memories of others are an ultimate form of dwelling in the past. The future is clean and pure, unwritten for anyone. Dwell in the future, and the memories of the past will fall off your mind like water off a duck's back. They can't hold purchase over someone who is optimistic about the future. It is an attitude which takes a virtual lifetime to develop…"

 _But you have it, Abebech, so you're clearly rather old._

Abebech grinned before she turned away to head to the _Heermann._ This time, she actually answered. _A bit older than the norm, you're quite right. But I promise I wouldn't be offering advice you couldn't use._

 _Well, I'll try to take it, but it may require a grace greater than any I've had before. I also never expected you to join in a ship's cheer._

 _Oh, come now. These things matter to people. Unity of strength and purpose make for a better crew and officer corps, and my privacy does not prevent my heart from stirring with my comrades._

With a dry wave, she left, but for a change, Elia felt much better about it.

Abebech, as silent and reserved as ever, got in the 'lift and called up the _Heermann_ dock. As it traveled, she pulled a builder's plate out of her pocket that she had taken from the captured ship, and looked long and hard at it, cupped in her gloved hands.

 _Weyland-Yutani Corporation._

 _"_ _We Build Better Worlds."_

 _Heavy Shipbuilding Division_

 _Union of Allied Planets Navy_

 _Enforcement Cruiser Ioannis_

 _Laid at Londinium Geostationary Dockyards_

 _Oct 14 2510._

Gripping it tightly, she put it back in her breast-pocket as she left the turbolift.

* * *

The _Huáscar_ hadn't suffered appreciable damage. The nature of the battle had been such that only light autocannon fire had hit the hull, and the armour had easily rejected all of it. The only internal damage had been from shock, and the repairs to those systems had been completed, with the re-mounting of the shield generators having been the most aggressive effort by Commander Poniatowska. Despite the seriousness of the attack, they had suffered only eleven wounded. The nineteen wounded during the boarding operations were also mostly minor; armour helped.

The great ship came about to intercept the new contact with alacrity. Redlight muted the environment of the bridge, and everyone was at stations. They were taking no chances now… They would have to make an impulse burn for twelve hours to escape the warp interference area. Doctrinally that left them hideously vulnerable to attack even as the great shining hull suggested a power and energy which nothing they had encountered in the system so far could match.

"Comms, Hail them."

Tor'jar was at his station and sent the signal. " _Unidentified vessel, this is the Allied Systems Cruiser Huáscar. We wish to make peaceful contact._ "

"They're turning away and increasing speed," Elia reported with almost a sigh.

"Pursue. Get them to pay attention to us," Zhen'var directed.

Violeta brought the _Huáscar_ up to full power and watched a kilometre of durasteel steadily build her speed onto her speed. The massive vessel she controlled was something like an armoured cruiser of the early 20th century, capable of fighting in the battle-line, conducting independent operations, and transporting a division of troops. Never had one of the class been this utterly alone before, a month from resupply or reinforcement, and this sorely tested by a situation that defied understanding. But when Violeta brought the drives to power, the ship's staggering ability reinforced her status as the biggest, most dangerous thing around. Within seconds they had leapt from a distant image to a looming giant to the crew of the unidentified ship.

"This is the Allied Systems Cruiser _Huáscar,_ please identify yourselves. We wish to make contact."

"Alliance ship," a man's voice finally came back on an open comm channel, "are you detaining us or not? If not, we'd like to be left alone."

Zhen'var barely stopped from putting a palm to her forehead. _Of course, the names of the central government here and our own government are so similar the Captain thinks we are a Government ship. And he is an outer systems man this far out, who isn't particularly interested in the government. Maybe even opposed to it._ She activated her own interface to the line. "Commander unidentified vessel, this is Captain Zhen'var. The _Huáscar_ serves a foreign government to your system."

"Captain Zhen'var," the voice came back, "Don't play games with me. There is nothing beyond the 'Verse."

"Captain, that's emphatically not true. You _came_ from Earth."

"Earth-that-was. It's dead, just like the name says."

"The reports of Earth's demise have been exagerrated," _to put it mildly, but I need to get them to sit down and talk before revealing everything!_ She muted the channel. "Leftenant, pull us ahead of them at point-blank."

"Captain," Violeta acknowledged and brought the _Huáscar_ 's drives to power again. She grew nearer and nearer to the tiny independent merchant. The vessel repeatedly tried to evade, but Violeta stayed on her tail and then overhauled her, keeping formation with her evasive manoeuvres and looming massively over the cockpit windows of the small transport, casting her entirely within the shadow of the kilometre-long star cruiser.

"Commander unidentified vessel, does this look like a ship of your central government?"

"No, but I reckon if they could build it, they would. It doesn't matter, though. I would say I am in a position where I have to listen to whatever you want to say, Captain Zhen'var, so go ahead and say it."

"We will bring your ship aboard and meet. There is much to discuss between your humanity and the Allied Systems, Captain… May I have your name?"

There was a long and pained hesitation, but the _Huáscar_ had his ship dead by rights, and if they wanted him, they'd have him. "Reynolds. Malcolm Reynolds."

* * *

The ship, it turned out, had a crew of five aboard, three women and two men-and one of the women was carrying a newborn baby with her. The leading man, rather obviously Captain Malcolm Reynolds, looked exhausted, and his crew stressed and pushed to the limit. They also gazed at her with the obvious suspicion of people not in isolation suits confronted with someone who was.

All of that changed when Nah'dur completed her medical scanning and pulled her helmet off, shaking out her shoulder-length bob of red hair, the honour guard drawn up in full pressure suits. "There's nothing air or aerosol transmissible of consequence, the bay air will be switched to general circulation," she ordered via her omnitool, and then addressed the five. "I am Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, welcome to the _Huáscar_ on the behalf of Captain Zhen'var."

Mal's shock was evident on his face. Then a rather accusatory look fell across his chiseled features. "You told me you were from Earth-that-was!"

"...Maybe cat people took it over after humans died out there?" One of the shorter women in the crew, in simple spacer's overhauls, was staying wide eyed as she blurted it out.

"Oh, neither. We said we knew that people had survived on Earth-which is true, there is a small remnant population. We _also_ have humans aboard - from several places. But half the crew is my species, the Dilgar."

A dark-haired woman who looked a bit like mother-Ka at a younger age, the same ethnicity anyway, took a hesitant step forward, understandable because of the child held in her arms. "And the Captain is as well?"

"You're very observant with our names. Yes, she is," Nah'dur answered matter-of-factly. "Please, this way, we have a conference suite." She watched the second man stay close between the two shorter women, his eyes tracking everything, wide and thoughtful. Nah'dur knew another intellectual when she saw one. "Sir…?"

"Oh. Doctor Tam, Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur," he answered, and hesitated to put out his hand.

She reached forward and took it anyway. "A pleasure to meet you, Doctor Tam. We actually have much to discuss. Well, if you're a medical doctor, that is. Other people will be interested if you're a Doctor of Laws, and I suppose someone will even want to talk if you're a Doctor of Art History, though I don't know who off the top of my head."

"Oh, no, I'm a medical Doctor. It sounds you're the equivalent?"

"Yes, though Surgeon-Commander is not exactly the same. But I do also have a doctorate in Genetics."

"All right, all right," Mal held up his hands. "We've got a lot of ground to cover, _Surgeon-Commander,_ and it's not about genetics."

"As you say, Captain, but most of your questions will be answered momentarily." With something of a sigh, she led them into the conference suite.

The presence of four Dilgar, one Dorei, and four humans in the conference suite left little doubt. It would be absurd to imagine the Alliance intentionally faking this; they had no reason to. And the power of the ship was testament enough to it as well.

Will started the explanations for the crew of the ship they had already learned was named the _Serenity,_ with a heavy use of holo-slides, because he hadn't had the time to do anything better than steal the standard Public Affairs template.

But as he spoke, with the others entranced, River Tam was staring across the table at Abebech and Elia. It didn't take long for the two of them to be totally focused on her.

 _Why can't I feel her mind at all?_ River was musing out loud, and both of them and then Hygienist Va'tor could feel it as well, the Dilgar woman also turning her attention to River.

 _She doesn't want anyone to,_ Elia answered automatically.

 _That doesn't stop me other ti-_ River cut off abruptly and looked sharply at Elia. _You just talked back._

 _I'm a telepath, and so are you,_ Elia answered.

"They're like me!" River suddenly exclaimed about as loud as she could in the meeting, looking with eagerness and surprise over to her brother. "They're _like me_!"

Will stopped talking. Simon looked at River. "River…"

"I would assume that by logical induction, your sister is a telepath?" Nah'dur, holding a cup of stimulant meat broth looked to Simon. That so matter-of-factly completely derailed what he was about to say.

Simon's expression froze. He stuttered.

 _He's an awesome brother but it gets ridiculous sometimes,_ River said matter-of-factly to Elia and Abebech and Va'tor. _So, who are you? I think we're very alike?_ She looked very hard at Abebech. Elia caught that it meant something more than telepathy.

 _A private person,_ Abebech answered. _And you have been cruelly ill-used, River Tam._

Her eyes flared, and her lips pursed, and River looked for a moment almost like she wanted to cry. Elia reached out. _Abebech's got her own way, River. I'm Elia, and I was raised in an entire society of other telepaths. We've got people here who can help you._

 _We need to understand what the Alliance is doing,_ River answered. _I was going to have Simon put me in an induced coma to recover my memories I can't access. But I think you can help me._

The third of the minds at that table following the conversation p'spoke smoothly, with the alien tones of her mind. _I certainly could,_ Va'tor offered simply.

"So, telepathy is a normal, established ability in the wider multiverse?" Simon finally recovered.

"Emphatically so. In my universe Espers have a history of thousands of years, in Commander Saumarez's, hundreds; telepaths have manifested in others, too, like that of Leftenant de Más," Abebech answered for the others, leaning back. "Doctor Tam, we are considerably advanced in knowledge of self-control and discipline of the mind in telepaths, and psychosurgery techniques and cybernetic enhancements which could be of material benefit to your sister."

Simon looked to River, who smiled faintly. "Abebech is really standoffish, but Elia is nice, and Va'tor sounds like she knows what she's doing. I don't think either of them is lying. They can help us without putting me in a coma, too."

"As a matter of fact, other than a lack of training and what I suspect is physical damage to the structure of the mind, I don't think she has any mental health issues," the Dilgar Mental Hygienist explained matter-of-factly. "Doctor Tam, we can be of great, material assistance."

"We'll need a brain scan to figure out the exact treatment plan," Nah'dur interjected, "but there shouldn't be any true issues. What's this about putting her in a coma, though?"

"She has memories of her time in Alliance captivity, they experimented on her," Simon explained, "and there's information we need. In an induced coma, it can be recovered with the technology that we have, but she can't consciously access it herself right now."

"There's no need at all for that, Doctor Tam," Nah'dur answered matter-of-factly. "Hygienist Va'tor can handle accessing blocked memories straightforwardly, indeed, it's quite likely Commander Imra or Commander Saumarez could as well. Here, we've covered the particulars of the Multiverse, so let's all decamp to sickbay and while your sister is treated we can talk about this damned ridiculous exotic hydrochlorate I found in your star system."

The entire table slammed to a screeching halt again, metaphorically. "You found Pax?" Simon stared. "So you've already encountered the remaining Reavers?"

"They found Pax? Well then they know what the Alliance is up to," Mal countered. "...Do you know what the Alliance is up to?" He asked Zhen'var a moment later.

"We fought the Reavers. We have sixty of them as prisoners aboard and we secured two of their vessels as prizes," Zhen'var answered. "And Pax… Peace."

"The original function of the hydrochlorate!" Nah'dur exclaimed. "Oh brilliant, these people were _idiots_!"

"You have _Reaver prisoners_ on your ship?" Kaylee looked aghast, horrified, and a bit terrified.

"We have stun weapons," Elia explained laconically.

" _Still._ They're as dangerous as all hell, Captain, and if you know a thing or two good for your crew, space 'em right now," Mal almost shouted, getting half out of his chair. "They're the result of a failed experiment by the Alliance to create a truly peaceful utopia. You can see the consequences."

"A totalitarian's utopia, I take it," Abebech remarked. "Captain, it appears we have our suspect."

"Do you have any proof, Captain Reynolds?"

"Proof?" Mal laughed. "Yeah, I got proof. You better believe I got proof-and I already beamed it to the entire 'Verse. That's how our current troubles started…"

Zhen'var's eyes got a peculiar glint. "Do tell, Captain. Maybe I can help."

"Right, but first, I've got a problem you can help me with." He gestured to the infant. "Little Emma's mother was taken prisoner by the Alliance in her hospital bed. And I want to get her back."

* * *

A few hours later, the _Huáscar_ 's senior officers had assembled in Conference Suite 1, back close to the bridge. Zhen'var's expression was particularly grim. Will was sombre. Abebech looked coldly reserved, and Commander Goodenough exchanged a look with Lieutenant Ca'elia as they both arrived from the _Heermann,_ the ship having finally stood down to Condition Yellow, Modified Zebra again.

"Comrades," Will began. "The Union of Allied Planets." The holo-projector stabilized on the vast expanse of five true stars and six Solformed Brown Dwarfs. "Seventy habitable planets, all but two of them terraformed without prior ecosystems. A single system with as much habitable groundside as the Earth Alliance-with terraforming companies almost as good as those in the Aururian Imperial Federation and an ability to cause solar ignition of Brown Dwarfs which has never before been documented."

" _Ancestors,_ " Fera'xero looked perturbed. "That is technology far beyond us."

"And yet they use primitive sublight drive systems," Will answered. "They are also a form of totalitarian democracy, a regime which has nominally free elections in the central planets, but rules the colonies with an iron fist, and actively represses its people through a sophisticated propaganda structure and corporate/deep-state control of the outcome of results."

"In short, just like the Earth Alliance back home," Zhen'var added dryly. "It is the next part which presents justification for a posture of direct hostility. Commander?"

"Quite." Will wiped his sandy blonde hair off his forehead. "Seven months ago, during the 'Battle of the Universe Moon', a major pirate broadcasting centre transmitted detailed, authenticated documentary evidence of what happened at the remote planet Miranda, at one of the outer Brown Dwarfs. The population of the planet was used as a human experiment for exposure to the Pax chemical, which was supposed to eliminate aggression from humans."

"We are the priests of the Temples of Syrinx; all the gifts of life are held within our walls," Chief Dugan muttered down at the end of the table.

Abebech pointed and smiled grimly. "Exactly, Chief. The ruling clique in the Alliance regards the Solar Federation of Syrinx from the inestimable _Rush_ song as something of a desirable end state for human civilisation, and is willing to commit crimes equal to those of the Nazis to achieve it."

"Fucking abominations," Violeta hissed, trembling. She was _angry. Why the hell is the rest of the multiverse so screwed up?_

"Calm, comrades, calm," Will spoke smoothly, leaning down to brace his hands on the table. "Let it burn, let it burn nice and hard. This story isn't over, but when we understand all of it, we'll know what to do."

"Exactly, Ladies and Gentlemen," Zhen'var affirmed. "They also experimented on, and are currently experimenting on, telepaths. We have a young lady aboard our ship right now, that's where Commander Saumarez and Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur are presently, operating with Hygienist-Commander Va'tor to restore function to her, because an experimental program to induce telepathic abilities involved, among other things, the severing of all connections between her amygdala and prefrontal cortex."

"That's why all the indigenous peoples survived on Earth, isn't it, Captain?" Stasia abruptly interjected. "Because they were _abandoned_ by the forefathers of these bastards?"

"Possibly so, though we don't have evidence of that yet, Chief Héen," Zhen'var answered sympathetically. "But let us continue. We know they have an experimental program to conduct tests like that-proving telepathy by intentionally damaging the brains of children and then observing how telepathic abilities bridge the damage to allow a modicum of continued functioning. We also know those tests are ongoing, in addition to the massive chemical experimentation on entire colonies. The Reavers resulted from the later; the Pax drug worked on 99.9% of the humans on the planet, the other 0.1% became Reavers and have brutalised the outer colonies ever since. There was a rebellion against this government by the outer colonies-unsurprisingly-but it was crushed seven years ago. There have been signs of a renewed incipient rebellion since the Universe broadcast, as one might expect if there were anyone sane or brave here."

"And the crew of the _Serenity,_ which includes some former rebels from the last insurrection," Will added, "were the ones responsible for saving River Tam from human experimentation and getting the evidence of the Miranda experiment out to the entirety of the so-called 'Verse', this expanded system. They're with us now, except that one of their crew-members who experienced complications giving birth has been seized by the Alliance on a nearby medical station that serves an asteroid mining community while receiving medical treatment."

"Captain Reynolds' price for cooperating with us is simple," Zhen'var smiled, and it was very catlike. "Since his First Mate is incapacitated, he requested asylum on her behalf, and I have sufficient evidence to declare that the seizure of any individual for detention by the Alliance represents a sufficiently serious risk of human rights violations to allow us to act. We'll be going in to recover Ms. Washburne. Fei'nur!"

"Captain, Ma'am!"

"Prepare your troops for station assault!" The smile was still on Zhen'var's face as she folded her hands together. "We will call the ship to stations when the medical procedure for Ms. Tam has been completed, so as not to distract what may be a delicate operation."

"Ma'am!"

Stasia leaned across the table as they broke to that militant note, and made a savage grin to Violeta. " _Attention all planets of the Solar Federation, we have assumed control…!_ "

Chief Dugan started laughing. "Hell yeah."

"Not quite so fast," Zhen'var interrupted as she rose, and before the others had left. "While we are launching this operation immediately to gain the trust of our allies, we will withdraw immediately after it. We still have no good answer about the subspace jamming field, and I want it disabled before committing to general action. As soon as this action is completed, we will resume our original course, and rendezvous with our prizes which are still burning for it, albeit considerably more slowly."

"What are we going to do with those floating charnel houses, anyway?" Will asked, as they finally headed out together.

"Oh, they're clearly of no use to us. These Browncoats, on the other hand, certainly can't afford to be picky. I suppose we'll just have to leave them abandoned in space." She folded her hands behind her back as they walked. "As for the Reavers, the REC came back favourable, so we'll let Nah'dur try her best. I think Fei'nur's brig practices and the sedatives are perfectly adequate for now, the sincerity of Captain Reynolds' advice notwithstanding."

"A risk, but a calculated one."

"We're in the business of calculated risks, Commander."

* * *

In sickbay, Nah'dur had gone in first. Once she had reliable imaging of what had happened to River Tam's brain, she had gotten very quiet for a moment, and then matter-of-factly reported the details and the inevitable conclusion to the Captain. Then she had gone to work. Nah'dur's ability to come up with a surgical plan in the space of a few minutes as good as if she had spent several days preparing for the patient let her perform on a rush basis surgeries as complex as most surgeons would undertake on patients with substantial planning.

The plan for how much functionality Nah'dur expected to recover for River was carefully coordinated with Va'tor, and she explained at the correct level-the moment she had ascertained the sophistication of Simon's medical training-the details of what she was going to do. The positronic implants she used were carefully and precisely grafted along the lines of most intact tissue, using micro-transporter surgery.

Once that was done and the appropriate drugs to avoid brain inflammation were administered, Va'tor and Elia went in gestalted together. They worked on separate tasks, but with a unified awareness to avoid damage to the psyche. Va'tor's objective was to integrate the new circuitry and assist the recovery of full function by pre-priming the brain to use it, while directing backup pathways around the direct connections that would augment the less effective cybernetics and guarantee a full recovery.

Elia, since that fell within her training, focused on the removal of the memory blocks from River and the reintegration of the memories of her time being experimented upon, as she had requested. The experience left her amazed at how highly functional River actually was; through a combination of telepathy-which wasn't insubstantial, she was a P-8 or maybe even a weak P-9-and natural resilience, she had integrated horrifying memories, including interfacing with the Reavers as she engaged in something very much like Centauri precog to fight them, which indicated her telepathy was tantalisingly broader than that of the human baseline for her own universe. The girl was a natural genius, maybe on the same level as the famous Jarod of the _Aurora_ -an actual Pretender-and the combination was amazing, spectacular. Elia felt joy at having her in her little community. And River Tam badly needed a community.

Outside in the waiting area next to Nah'dur's office, the Dilgar Surgeon-Commander returned in uniform and a lab coat, carrying a massive bucket for the crew of the _Serenity._ "Chicken," she announced. "Salt and Pepper Chicken, in fact. I assume it still exists here."

"Xièxiè," Kaylee responded automatically, and reached for some the moment the bucket hit the table. "I was really famished, Doctor…"

"Surgeon-Commander," Nah'dur corrected automatically, but felt bad at the woman's blush. "At any rate, I had assumed so. Dilgar are preferential, but not obligate, carnivores and I have been browsing my way through human food using the replicator."

"Matter reorganisation into food." Inara was thought. "It seems like magic."

"I have heard that several times, but it is science, if absurdly profligate of energy," Nah'dur replied.

"Well, then, we're glad for the treat. Of course, we're all worried about River, Simon most of all," Mal nodded his way.

"Oh, I think I'm doin' some of the worryin' for him," Kaylee insisted, and got a faint smile from her beau.

"Well, Va'tor is one of our best mental hygienists.."

"That name sounds rotten," Mal countered. "Wasn't exactly the best part of this, even if she seemed decent."

"Well, sometimes things are lost in the translation from alien to human languages, Captain, and I do admit, the Dilgar Imperium was a totalitarian state for quite a long time. It was my mother who reformed our survivors-on the outer colony of Rohric. We are like your own Independent Planets types, those who valued independence enough to live on a world where spores would make you cough up your lungs on a regular basis. There are other Dilgar, refugees from Omelos, in the Union these days, but it is very much the spirit of Rohric which infuses our culture and government."

"You lost your homeworld as we lost earth?" Inara asked.

"Yes, though rather more comprehensively, as it turns out," Nah'dur replied, munching on chicken, and occasionally glancing at Inara.

Mal noticed that and started frowning, but Simon spoke first with a question. "Surgeon-Commander? I've been thinking about a rather significant issue since I've had access to your databanks."

"Go ahead and ask, Doctor."

"Your records suggest Earth-that-was was destroyed about thirty-five hundred years ago by runaway climate change. But according to our own records it was only four hundred years ago, at most."

"I assumed it was due to the fact that you stopped counting time while you were all in suspended animation," Nah'dur replied.

"We were supposedly still so close to Earth-that-Was that suspended animation wasn't required," Simon answered, feeling uncomfortable.

"...Interesting. You're eighteen hundred lightyears from Earth. Did you know that Commander Atreiad _also_ comes from a version of this system? It's called Cyrannus there, and his people are also humans who have a deeply flawed and incorrect history of how they came to be there, forgetting that Earth was even their homeworld. But it's much more minimalist than you system; twelve primary inhabited planets with four stars. Now, six of your stars are artificial, but the fifth of the natural ones shouldn't be in this system. Someone moved it."

"All well and good, but what about River, Doctor?" Mal interjected.

Simon turned away, deep in thought.

"I can't speed it up, and to be honest, I should just stay out of the way. Psychosurgery is not my speciality. There's lots of other things to attend to, anyway." She glanced to Inara again.

"And why do you keep _lookin_ at the Lady?"

Nah'dur rose. "Oh, that. Miss Serra, could you accompany me, please? I would like to speak privately."

Inara smoothed down her clothes-she had ditched her dresses for spacer's gear in the circumstances of their shared exile, but she had an inner dignity about it all-and rose. "Of course, Surgeon-Commander." There was a hesitancy in her step, and Mal was frowning, but she carried on and followed Nah'dur into another part of sickbay.

Mal shook his head as he watched them go. "Do you get the feelin' that Doctor is too smart for her own good?"

"I haven't woken up from the part where she's a catwoman," Kaylee answered.

* * *

"My sniffers detected the very high end drug you brought onto the ship," Nah'dur said matter-of-factly to Inara as she entered the consulting room, activating one of the screens and authenticating through to load a chemical sequence file. She turned to Inara. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No, I wouldn't, Surgeon-Commander," Inara answered coolly. "I don't think I'll get the choice, though, and choices have become an increasing problem for me of late. The ones I make have left me with fewer and fewer others. Once I was a Companion, and now, at long last, I am a rebel, though I did not ever think I would call myself that."

"Sometimes, in the end, all you can do is die with honour," Nah'dur answered levelly. "I am not unfamiliar with the concept of brilliance caged by circumstance, though I wouldn't consider it to apply to me in the slightest."

"It certainly doesn't. You have a brusque bedside manner, you know," Inara smiled more gently. "I know where this is going…"

"Do you? The fact that the drug in question is normally used to treat Kylarn-Syraxi, a sexually transmitted disease in S0T5?"

"That's what it is," Inara agreed. "The drug prolongs life, and allows me…"

"To keep your profession," Nah'dur nodded simply. "It is the foolish, uncaring, unknowing infected clients who pose the risk, yes, I understand how this goes, though among my own people prostitution was banned as being contrary to the dignity of our race. With other species, it was attended with the death penalty. We were once great believers in blood purity like that, I can see that at least your government is a little more sensible."

"Enough about that, Surgeon-Commander. I would not expect you to have the customs or laws, such is the way of living. The disease. Why does it have the same name in two universes, I wonder?" Inara pressed.

"I don't have the slightest idea," Nah'dur answered, shaking her head. "But it's most assuredly not native to Old Earth, so it shouldn't be shared at all. But it's here. And I have a much more high-end treatment from Solaris that can remove it from your body."

Inara sank back on the examining bed. This brusque know-it-all young catgirl had also just calmly and matter-of-factly offered her life back. She could return to the Core, alive, with a long life ahead…. And she didn't want to. Mal was too important now; they were lovers, and lovers they would remain.

It was very appropriate of the way the wheel of dharma worked. She had been led down the path she was meant to walk long enough to encounter a miracle in the form of a starship; when the blessings were dispensed, the one thing that she would have done with them for most of the past two years, she no longer wanted.

But a life with Mal, she very much did want.

* * *

The two returned to the waiting area, just in time for Elia to come out, with bloodshot, exhausted eyes. "Doctor Tam, Captain Reynolds," She leaned against the bulkhead. "You can come see her now. The surgery was successful-both surgeries were." She turned back in, at their eagerness, to where Va'tor was gently brushing River's forehead.

"She's still sedated?" Simon asked as he moved up to the other side. "Your non-invasive techniques for the physical portion are amazing."

"Not sedated, but encouraged to sleep. Sedation may be required, though," Va'tor explained. "Also _months_ of rehabilitation to make full use of the work that was done tonight."

"We can handle that," Simon Tam smiled, and glanced to Kaylee, who was grinning brilliantly. "We can handle that."

Elia gently waved for Mal and stepped over to a quiet corner of the ward. "I have the information. There's hundreds of them, in fact, and the experiments… They had genetic samples for telepathy; I'm not clear on how. This was part of a broad-based effort to enhance human thought in many cognitive areas. It involved torture and experimentation which led to brain damage of countless children. There's a few dozen success stories who are alive and in various stages of experimentation or utilization."

"Utilization." The word twisted up Mal's face. "Yeah, that'll do. Especially with your help. How long until we get back to the station, Commander?"

"Two hours," Elia answered. "I'm going to get some rack time. Turn in all-standing, frankly. Try to catch a caulk yourself, Captain. But we'll get your Mate back. _Huáscar_ fears nothing." With a sad smile, reflecting the inner pain she felt from River's memories, Elia stepped out. She had to be ready to face them. And she would be. Because they were all in it together.

Behind her, Mal turned to look to Inara, who was smiling warmly. "So… Where are our guest quarters, anyway?"


	27. Episode 5 Act 4

**Act 4**

As the crew of the _Serenity_ returned to her in the main bay, they could see the incredible intensity of the action as the _Huáscar_ prepped for combat. Officers and warrants in their new light blue aviation uniforms with white and silver trim with Sam Browne belts oversaw an operation to prepare, after a long time on standby alert, the entire wing prepared for launch at the same time the assault shuttles were prepared to reinforce the landing effort, most of the working parties in overhauls and the ammunition handling and refueling teams in anti-spark gear.

A tall woman with very light brown skin wearing the ubiquitous CE7 _Huáscar_ baseball cap with a simplified image of the ship in gold on a black background and her hair tied down in a braid below it headed over. She was in regular uniform but wearing a heavy pair of work gloves to pitch in as required. "Captain Reynolds?"

"Miss…?"

"Chief Héen. I'm the Airboss," she introduced herself, yanking a hand out a glove and presenting it. "We need to get your bird into the parasite bay. That'll clear the space for full regular operations. I'd like your help striking her down on the elevator. The _Heermann_ will be casting off in a few minutes and I want you on the elevator when she does."

" _You're jacking her up on gravity sleds!?"_ Kaylee exclaimed.

"You bet I am, ma'am," Stasia replied tightly, but there was a grin. "Cheng?"

"Cheng…"

"Chief engineer?" You're her engineer?"

"YES! Now stop!"

"Can't do that. We're not supposed to launch you, because you could get left alone facing the enemy if the situation goes south," Stasia answered readily. "But I can let you supervise."

" _You want me to supervise your soldiers? Awh, but…_ " The abruptly panic-stricken look on Kaylee's face was met be a wry look on Stasia's.

"Normally I'd tell you to get the hell out of my operation, ma'am, but it's kinda like loading a semi-truck on a ferry. Unlike the car drivers, that trucker definitely knows how to handle his rig better than you do."

"Didn't think you people had anything like that with your fancy tech."

"I'm from a planet you'd be able to look down on, and a town most of the ignorant bastards on said planet look down on too," Stasia laughed. "Used to own a fishing trawler, ended up in the Navy when I was down on my luck. Come on, Miss…"

"Just call me Kaylee."

"Right then. Let's get your rig spotted."

On the _Serenity,_ it was just Mal, Kaylee and Inara. They were capable of handling the ship with that small of a crew, but it rubbed Mal wrong, anyway. He felt overwhelmed, tired, of course, and about as in over his head as he had at the Battle of Serenity. The _Huáscar_ was a giant complication from his way of thinking, even if he could also see how it might be their only chance to stop being fugitives.

The bigger bother at the moment was the reality that Zoe's rescue was dependent on the kindness of strangers and the actions of a eight-million-metric-tonne behemoth a klick long which was from another universe. They were very much just along for the ride, and Mal didn't like that _at all._

Kaylee was cleaning up from having assisted with the ship's move onto the elevator. She was smiling. "So, we're gonna get Zoe, and the Surgeon-Commander will get her fixed up, and we'll leave with full tanks, full oxygen bottles, new recyclers and seventy metric tonnes of food."

"Assumin' that's the way it's gonna go," Mal answered, looking at the gray walls of the bay through the windows of _Serenity_ 's bridge. "And that'll fix us for a while, but the entire Verse will be completely different by then. We might not need it. Captain Zhen'var might just go straight to Londinium and dictate terms at the point of the gun."

"Do you really think she will?" Kaylee frowned. "And if they leave again afterwards, won't that just make things worse?"

"Yes, and maybe," Mal answered - and so did Inara. The two shot each other a look. Then Mal continued. "Well, anyhow, she's got a pretty big iron for this fight. I'd do it, in her place."

"And what would come of it, Mal?" Inara, the Inner Worlder, who had once supported the Alliance, and still was queasier about facing them than most of the _Serenity_ 's crew, asked sharply.

"A chance," Mal answered, "for those people who are gonna die the next time the Alliance tries to perfect Pax, or whatever it is they get in their heads next. A chance." Outside of the _Serenity,_ the klaxons began to howl. It was time.

* * *

The _Huáscar_ was coming in at 0.7 _c_ when the engines kicked up to full power in deacceleration. The magnetic baffles redirected the thrust ahead and she rapidly began to slow. The tactical plot was projected on the bridge, and the _Heermann_ was standing by under cloak, with the Wing at Ready 5. The long-range sensors, however, showed only two tower-and-arc, strangely shaped cruisers, together they massed as much as the _Huáscar,_ so it scarcely mattered.

Zhen'var looked at them for a moment. "That is not a design whose first objective is combat. Long range scans?"

"Two different variants," Elia answered. "Matching the _Serenity_ 's recognition database as Tohoku-M and Tohoku-D types, the M is more of a mothership while the D has an enlarged engineering section for greater sublight turn and increased firepower."

"Have they detected us yet?"

"No evidence," Elia shook her head. "They have a gunboat CAP, but they're large enough for us to engage with secondary batteries. No shields. And no sign of armour, either."

 _Huáscar_ continued to slow to match vee with the Hospital satellite, as the station was called. As they did, the lightspeed limited sensors of the two _Tohoku_ class ships finally alerted on them, and a panicked cascade of emergency gunboat launches began.

The presence of the cruisers did create a real situation. Zhen'var was intentionally stretching regulations. It was true that the Alliance had a right in its own laws to protect someone who had requested asylum, and it was true that an incapacitated person's legal guardian could request asylum for them. But the law said asylum requests had to be made in person, precisely to prevent someone like Zhen'var from using them as an excuse. They hadn't envisioned a situation where someone's legal guardian requested asylum for them at a remove from the person it was being requested for. It was a tenuous legal loophole that, in the circumstance of the horrifying human rights abuses of the Allied Planets, Zhen'var intended to drive a truck through and then use a fig leaf.

She figured Maran would back her right up to the hilt. _Either I'm getting court martialed or they're going to fix the regs after that._ But it was a contented smirk. "Comms, hail those cruisers. Keep it neutral at first."

" _This is the Allied Systems Cruiser Huáscar. Please respond. This is the Allied Systems Cruiser Huáscar. Please respond._ " Tor'jar repeated the hail.

"This is the Allied Planets cruiser _Yuzhao_ ," a voice answered immediately. "What kind of joke is this? There isn't any ship in the fleet lists named the _Huáscar._ Allied _Systems?_ Transmit your recognition codes immediately!"

Zhen'var nodded to Tor'jar. "Improvise, Leftenant."

A Dilgar grin matched her own. "We do not have valid recognition codes. We are from a different universe," the comms section lead replied matter-of-factly.

"Nothing exists outside of the _Verse,_ this is ridiculous. We have a legal right to fire upon you if you do not transmit recognition codes, _Huáscar_!"

The gunboats began to look. Zhen'var glanced back to Elia. "Do you actually think they'll fire first, Commander?"

"It would make our lives a lot easier if they did…"

"Repeat, _Yuzhao_ , we have no recognition codes to transmit."

A new voice came on the line. "Commander _Yuzhao_ to unregistered vessel, if you have no recognition codes, you are hereby instructed and commanded to heave-to and prepare to be boarded, _Huáscar._ "

Zhen'var pushed the button on her command chair that overrode the feed personally to her. "Commander _Huáscar_ to Commander _Yuzhao._ No." The gunboats continued to rush toward her, bracketing the _Huáscar_ perfectly, but despite the risk, it was more sure this way to stay within the letter of her orders, so she didn't give the order.

" _Huáscar,_ this is your last warning to comply!"

"Commander _Yuzhao,_ we are a foreign warship and you have no right to force us to heave-to."

This time, the _Yuzhao_ answered with a burst transmission to her enforcement gunboats. They immediately dropped a large brace of EMP depth charges around the _Huáscar,_ aiming to disable her. The electrical power on the bridge flickered.

"Captain, shields at fifty percent," Elia reported crisply. "They're far more powerful than the directed weapons."

"You may fire when ready, Daria," Zhen'var ordered. "Helm, let us pass between them!"

Daria triggered the secondary pulse cannon and emitters. Moments later, sheets of plasma erupted from every quarter of the _Huáscar,_ tracking the large enforcement gunboats the Alliance preferred. For their doctrine and role, they were excellent small craft, but they were ill-suited for the task at hand. Abruptly seventeen of the gunboats exploded in fire as the batteries of the _Huáscar_ tracked them on their courses. They were too big to evade, and too small to resist.

Violeta was already bringing the _Huáscar_ about and preparing to run between the two cruisers ahead, impulsors flaring as the ship's acceleration and vee kicked up steadily again. As she did, she left the other Government gunboats behind. They hadn't the g's to keep up.

"Ops, those EMP burst weapons might be strong but they are _very_ short range and we need to confirm the location of our subject. While we're between the gunboats and the cruisers, stand by to drop shields and transport the boarding teams to the station."

"Sending alerts now and standing by," Elia worked furiously on the synchronisation of the transport programs. She had to coordinate the successive beam-outs of the power armour troops who would secure the outer part of the TZ and then the regular Marines that would follow them in.

"At your discretion, Ops!" The huge tower-ships loomed ahead, each half the mass of the _Huáscar._

Elia dropped the shields and began the beam-out patterns to seize the station. The cruisers had wised up pretty well. As she did, they opened fire with their directed EMP weapons, and Elia sucked in her breath and continued the beam-outs.

The first of the EMP bursts hit the unshielded _Huáscar,_ causing system failures and surges around the ship. Elia fought a private little war with the assistance of the computer banks, shutting off and shunting power in different sectors to keep the transporters from suffering potentially deadly surges.

"We're losing major weapons system power, Captain." Daria reported urgently. "This disabling weapons are doing a number on the charge capacitors."

"Ops…"

"Almost, Captain." Gloved fingers whipped across the board as she checked the status of putting two companies of Marines on the Station. Four hundred and fifty troops were on the station a moment later, but the power on the _Huáscar_ 's bridge went down and flickered away as emergency backups came on-line.

"Ops!"

"Transports complete… Tertiary shields responding and cohesive, Captain."

"But we've lost weapons power?"

"Yes, Captain," Elia answered, the main screen flickering on to see the tower ships closer, their EMP weapons continuing to fire.

Daria's hands flicked across her own console. "Captain, I am adjusting the torpedoes to launch at one meter per second cold vee," she explained, "I can use local emergency power batteries to bring up the torpedo launchers. Torpedo motors will take over at that point but it will be almost a zero-zero launch so we're going to need to hold course and speed to avoid hitting our torps and they'll be sitting ducks for defensive systems. We'll need to be at point blank."

"Good thinking, tactical. Ops, how are the shields holding?"

"Eighty percent on the tertiary banks, Captain," the mildly flustered Elia answered. "Continued degradation is occurring and the enemy is charging plasma batteries."

"Hold course and speed." Zhen'var next activated a comm line to Fei'nur on the station. "Colonel, do you have our subject?"

"Captain, we do, but there is a hostage situation."

"Still good enough. Tactical, full power for the torpedoes and stand by."

Both of the cruisers in front of them now opened fire with their short range plasma weapons. The _Huáscar_ buffeted and buffeted again.

"Captain?" Violeta glanced back. "Evasives?"

"I want us right between the two ships," Zhen'var answered levelly. "That's the priority."

 _I have discretion as long as I can put us there,_ Violeta reminded herself. She constructed a corkscrew skewing motion to the _Huáscar_ that would steady out with one of the cruisers on each broadside and activated it.

"Anna, how long until we have restoration of full power?"

"Four minutes, Captain!"

"Very well. We have our plan, stick to it." Zhen'var had a neutral, level calm.

"Tertiary shields at forty percent," Elia updated her report. "Battery power to the torpedo launchers is stable. Shall we have the _Heermann_ decloak and engage?"

"Our situation is not dire yet, let's not play our trump card," Zhen'var answered. "Weapons…"

" _Interposition with the enemy formation, Captain!_ " Arterus reported from the nav console.

Violeta sharply straightened the _Huáscar'_ s course, level and on line with the two cruisers on each beam.

"Fire," Zhen'var ordered.

With that single word, forty solar torpedoes were fired against each torpedo on the torpedo launchers fronting to that beam, in ten round bursts from the launchers. The point-defence weapons on both cruisers immediately opened fire, ripping through the torpedoes.

The torpedoes might be accelerating slowly, but they also had a short distance to go as the two cruisers pulled away from each other and the _Huáscar,_ trying to open the range and give themselves manoeuvring distance.

The Tohoku-M managed to shoot down thirty-three of the torpedoes. Against the unarmoured and unshielded hull, the remaining seven _wrecked_ it. One of the massive towers went spinning away, arcing with plasma. Gun mounts flew into space. Massive craters ripped through the annular ring of the lower hull and shattered it in one place that, without the cross connections, would have sent the strange tower ship drifting in pieces. All power flickered away from the windows and position lights as the main reactors went down.

The Tohoku-D shot down thirty-seven torpedoes. Three slammed into it, coincidentally all reaching the one largest central tower from behind. The front explosively blew out as the lights went dark across the upper part of the ship from progressive power failures, gun emplacements decoupled from massive shattered hull sections of the seven hundred meter high tower, and the atmosphere blew outwards and flamed over before the remnants condensed to ice. With it were no small quantity of bodies.

" _MY GOD,_ " the open comm line to the Alliance ships exploded with a new voice. It was the _Yuzhao,_ her thrusters firing as she started to come about under secondary control. "You've just killed _two thousand_ civilians! Unidentified ship, stand down, stand down!"

"Bring us about, Helm."

Violeta paled "Captain?"

"Bring us about, Helm." Zhen'var flipped the comm over to transmit. "Commander Yuzhao this is Commander _Huáscar._ Do you strike, Sir?"

The _Huáscar_ continued a lazy swing to starboard.

Elia looked up from her console. "We are still receiving fires from the cruiser, Captain. Tertiary shields holding at twenty percent. No hull damage, but we're going to be down to bare armour in another six minutes at this rate."

"Tactical, lock solar torpedoes on target and stand by to fire on my mark." Again the comm. "Commander Yuzhao, Commander Huáscar. If you do not surrender, Sir, when we come about, we will deprive you of your life, Sir." She flipped to the intercom. "Engineering, I need weapons power now."

"I've got you a few shots of the forward Mk.I's from the batteries, Captain. That's all I can do right now."

"That will be enough, thank you, Engineering." Zhen'var quietly cleared her throat. "Tactical, all available weapons, stand by to fire."

 _"Captain._ " Daria's eyes squinted. _Was this moral?_ Of course, the officer on the _Yuzhao_ might be lying as a ruse d'guerre. The _Huáscar_ shook around them.

"Shields collapsing, Captain. There's no more I can do to keep them cohesive," Elia popped her knuckles. "Seconds, Captain."

"Commander Yuzhao, this is Commander Huáscar. Yield now or die." Leaving the channel open, she pitched her voice. " _Tactical,_ lock forward batteries on target, maximum firepower."

The officer on the other end of the comm could hear them, and spoke in Chinese, but the autotranslator rendered the words into English. " _My body may be broken, but my name shall live true in history._ "

Zhen'var closed her eyes. "Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Chapter Seventy-six. Guan Yu retreats to Maicheng. _Tactical,_ Fire!"

For a brief moment, eighteen blazing shafts of light interconnected the two ships, and then the shattered tower erupted in flame, and vanished in a tremendous explosion of the main reactors. Silent in the vastness of space, the spinning debris and burning atmosphere scattered around the Hospital station.

Elia broke the silence on the bridge with her perfectly collected British accent. "Mains to nominal, Captain. Instructions?" The prompt was all Zhen'var needed, she didn't linger on the moment further.

"Helm, pursue those gunboats." The _Huáscar_ surged ahead. "Tactical, take them down."

It was like a shark pursuing minnows. With their EMP charges exhausted, they had no weapons which could threaten the _Huáscar._ They were quickly taken under fire by accurate, precise weaponry of the highest power. Within a minute, it was clear that the gunboats couldn't do anything other than die.

So they did what good, brave officers did in that circumstance. Each one was a witness, each one had the same sensor data. Each one set a course toward a different point in the civilised parts of the Verse. Then they spun their drives to full power and burned hard for it. The _Huáscar_ could only go in one direction at once.

Her weapons were _hideously_ long-ranged by the local standards, though. The gunboats were also _slow,_ half the acceleration of the _Huáscar_ herself despite the fact they were the fastest things in the System. Again and again the _Huáscar_ 's secondary batteries fired, sending another gunboat to hell.

"Captain, we're not going to get all of them," Elia said simply. "We'll need the _Heermann_ to decloak to get one, and even then we might not manage the last."

"I don't want them knowing about the _Heermann,_ Ops. _Anyone._ "

Elia's fingers danced through the controls, regardless of the gloves. "Full spectrum jamming established. Distance is sufficient there shouldn't be a visual sight from the Hospital Station, Captain."

"Very good, Ops. Send the signal to Commander Imra."

They were accelerating in pursuit of another of the gunboats, the great impulsors straining as the vee doubled and doubled again. The other two of the remaining three gunboats looked like they would get away scot free. Then the _Heermann_ shimmered into view. Commander Imra did not hesitate. A burst from the pulse cannon combined with two solar torpedoes, and like a leering bird of prey on the bounce, the gunboat vanished into a quickly glowing dust of plasma.

That left one, and even with the _Heermann_ now in pursuit, she might well make it clear. Might, that is, if a larger version of the _Serenity_ had arrived within sensor detection distance on an intercept course.

Though a freighter, she quickly proved herself armed as the _Huáscar,_ dispatching her last victim, turned about to begin the long-shot of pursuing the final gunboat. Instead of maintaining the pursuit, they had only to watch as their quarry died to the autocannon and missiles of the interloper, leaving the only Alliance forces the ruined Tohoku-M drifting off the Hospital station.

"That made things unexpectedly simpler," Arterus murmured. "Captain, they were certainly laying in wait based on their vector and velocity. They probably saw some of the battle and then chose to intervene."

"Well well. Our new interloper seems to be opposed to the Central Government as well." Zhen'var stretched her dew-claws against the granite armrests. "Hail them."

"Hailing.." Tor'jar looked up. "Finally a friendly response, Captain. They identify themselves as the New Resistance and request permission to approach."

"Grant it. Ops, give them a vector."

"Aye Captain."

"Stand down to Condition Yellow, maintain MC Zebra." Zhen'var forced her claws to retract and tapped through her selection of comm links to interface with Colonel Fei'nur's. "Colonel, status report?"

* * *

Securing the station had been the easy part. The hard part was facing down the Alliance troops who were holding a woman in a hospital bed hostage. Zoe Washburne had given birth to her daughter, and the complications had almost killed her beyond the ability of _Serenity_ 's simple medbay to assist. And so had begun the trap that the _Huáscar_ had fortuitously saved them from, leaving Zoe to be captured by the Alliance, and also her life saved by the doctors of the Hospital Satellite.

Mal's deal with Zhen'var had been straightforward, but it came to Fei'nur to true it. Fei'nur and her troops. Simon had provided the rough area of the hospital she was certain to be in since she still had to be under care. Elia had provided the sensor data on the fly for the corridors.

During the risky and damaging lowering of the shields she had elected to risk to guarantee they kept their end of the deal, the _Huáscar_ 's Ops officer had systematically beamed power armour strike teams down to close off approaches to all of the Transport Zones. On arriving, they had sprayed the area around them with heavy automatic fire and flechette grenades to suppress any immediate resistance. Most of the collateral casualties were in this phase. Fei'nur and Elia hadn't mentioned that to the crew of the _Serenity._

Once safely on the station, they had taken up positions to cover the arrival of the two companies of regular Marines. Storming from position to position under the cover of flash-bangs and with weapons set to stun, they had systematically picked apart all possible resistance while their Corpsmen took over for the doctors they had stunned to avoid more civilian casualties. The plan was methodical, and Fei'nur tolerated nothing but the execution of the plan, mindful of trusting her noncoms and junior officers to be smarter than the ones she had fought with in the Dilgar War.

The Alliance forces and security personnel for the Hospital Satellite barely amounted to forty armed individuals in all. They had been suppressed within five minutes, while the _Huáscar_ was still in her hard fight. Then the problems had started, or rather the single salient problem: An Alliance officer had a gun to Zoe Washburne's head.

Network-centric warfare has been around since the wireless telegraph was invented. More and more effort was devoted to the coordination of troops, which mattered much more than individual capabilities. Or, in this case, the speed of datasynching and transmission was the only variable for how long it took the hostage crisis to be resolved.

Each squad reported to each platoon that they had secured their objectives. The information was collated and delivered to the Colonel's command post. The particulars of the hostage situation and the demands of the hostage-takers were related to the Colonel's command post. This process took about two minutes, most of which was Fei'nur's verification of the reports from each unit; it took Fei'nur another forty-five seconds to confirm with her subordinate commanders that they didn't need her for anything. Then it took another three minutes for her to physically reach the ward that Zoe Washburne was in. Arriving and doing counterchecks with the outer security squad, they used their taclink to alert the others.

Thirty seconds later, Fei'nur had finished activating her cloak and walking up alongside Lieutenant Rodgers. This was the kind of situation Warmaster Jha'dur had _created_ Spectres for, among others. In the pristine canned air of a space station, there was nothing to give her away. The squad of Government police fronting his standoff with the Marines were alerted only by the expressive exhalation of air which marked the noise of a man dying to a blade driven deep through lung and heart.

Fei'nur had already grabbed the gun, and with cybernetically enhanced strength, guaranteed that as the Lieutenant died, he sprayed his own squad with fire. Men screamed with wounds. Fei'nur flung the body forward and dived below the bed as a burst of stun fire swept from her troops across the remaining security police. The combat had taken seventeen seconds.

Sometimes the Personal _did_ matter. Fei'nur's cloaking device deactivated. "Leather, this is Shovel. Tagging subject for immediate transport to sickbay." At the same moment she said that, she tapped the transporter transponder to Zoe Washburne's shoulder.

"Leather copies. Confirming with Ginger… Confirmed. Transport commencing."

"I just got rescued by a giant cat? What drugs did…" Zoe flashed away from the table.

"Not just any giant cat," Fei'nur sniffed. The human had been correct, however; Fei'nur was much larger than a typical female Dilgar. From start to finish the operation had had the character of an execution rather than a battle, just the way she liked it.


	28. Episode 6 Act 1

**_Introduction_**

"Are there any additional findings to what's already been found, Doctor?" Abebech looked around the haunting age of the abandoned toroidal space station. It had been a receiving and transfer point for gas and Ioian exotics-fuel products, in short.

"Just the content of these messages," he answered, gesturing to them on the wall of the station.

Goodenough followed his message. " _Forward, to our Universe._ " He shook his head. "Rather bloody enigmatic, isn't it, Ma'am?" He offered to Abebech. "Like 'Croatan', bloody near."

* * *

"Helm, break to port!" Elia called as she shifted controls. Violeta instinctually followed her, because it seemed like Elia had a plan, even though that brought them even closer to the two ships, as the shields suddenly surged with over-power through the tertiary generators and the shields slammed into the active plasma cutters, driving a massive energy feedback into the systems of the two small attackers. As they did, there were two enormous explosions along the port aft quarter, shaking the _Huáscar_ like a bone in the mouth of a dog as both of them detonated from the impact and energy feedback tearing their thin hulls to pieces.

"We were going to lose the shields no matter what, Captain, better to take them with the generators," Elia justified herself simply.

* * *

Abebech, as silent and reserved as ever, got in the 'lift and called up the _Heermann_ dock. As it traveled, she pulled a builder's plate out of her pocket that she had taken from the captured ship, and looked long and hard at it, cupped in her gloved hands.

 _Weyland-Yutani Corporation._

 _"We Build Better Worlds."_

 _Heavy Shipbuilding Division_

 _Union of Allied Planets Navy_

 _Enforcement Cruiser Ioannis_

 _Laid at Londinium Geostationary Dockyards_

 _Oct 14 2510._

Gripping it tightly, she put it back in her breast-pocket as she left the turbolift.

* * *

Will started the explanations for the crew of the ship they had already learned was named the _Serenity,_ with a heavy use of holo-slides, because he hadn't had the time to do anything better than steal the standard Public Affairs template.

But as he spoke, with the others entranced, River Tam was staring across the table at Abebech and Elia. It didn't take long for the two of them to be totally focused on her.

 _Why can't I feel her mind at all?_ River was musing out loud, and both of them and then Hygienist Va'tor could feel it as well, the Dilgar woman also turning her attention to River.

 _She doesn't want anyone to,_ Elia answered automatically.

 _That doesn't stop me other ti-_ River cut off abruptly and looked sharply at Elia. _You just talked back._

 _I'm a telepath, and so are you,_ Elia answered.

"They're like me!" River suddenly exclaimed about as loud as she could in the meeting, looking with eagerness and surprise over to her brother. "They're _like me_!"

* * *

"Shields collapsing, Captain. There's no more I can do to keep them cohesive," Elia popped her knuckles. "Seconds, Captain."

"Commander Yuzhao, this is Commander Huáscar. Yield now or die." Leaving the channel open, she pitched her voice. " _Tactical,_ lock forward batteries on target, maximum firepower."

The officer on the other end of the comm could hear them, and spoke in Chinese, but the autotranslator rendered the words into English. " _My body may be broken, but my name shall live true in history._ "

Zhen'var closed her eyes. "Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Chapter Seventy-six. Guan Yu retreats to Maicheng. _Tactical,_ Fire!"

* * *

Back on the _Huáscar,_ Elia blinked at the transmission. _This isn't good._ "Captain, laser burst from the _Heermann_ coming through now." _Abebech wouldn't break comms silence for nothing._

"Let me see it on my small screen. Keep on alert, if the enemy knows why our course is shaped as it is, they will be waiting..."

Elia sent the message over it. As she did, she watched it herself, and felt a chill starkly cross her skin.

It was a ship, with something of the form of a squared rocket, tapering toward the nose. Two great squared oblong deck clusters thrust up from the main hull, and what might have been the track of a mass driver lay along the dorsal hull. The armour was thick, immensely thick, twenty metres or more, and was gouged and torn in every place. She hung in space, a ghost ship of an ancient battle.

* * *

Suddenly, Elia's senses flared with danger, threat, warning. All from behind. She spun toward the entrance of the bridge to see an African man with a UAS type pulse pistol drawn, aimed at Zhen'var. Elia had no time to make a decision about anything, and fear for her best friend in the multiverse drove what she did next. She knew intimately how terrified, privately, Zhen'var was of being taken prisoner on her bridge again. At times at dock when the bridge was empty or she had control at secondary control, she had even drilled it. Elia reached out, more on instinct than thought.

Zhen'var felt the intense, all-encompassing feeling of Elia's warm closeness to her, the telepathic equivalent of a bear hug of her mind. Elia's reassurance came even as she triggered the muscle sequence and plan that Zhen'var had drilled. This was faster still than simply assuming control of her; within her friend's mind she found the plan she had trained to execute, and had her rolling from chair, pistol in her right hand as her left slapped a button on her belt.

The infiltrator's gun spoke, even as an iron hand lunged out from the man to wrench Fera'xero from his chair. And Elia, for a horrifying moment balanced on the precipice of not knowing whether or not her effort had worked, refused to draw back, even if it meant she followed her friend to The Door.

* * *

 **Undiscovered Frontier _Origins_ : Meta Incognita**

 **Season 1, Episode 6**

* * *

 **Act One**

Time itself seemed to have no meaning as the shot ricocheted off the deck. Zhen'var rolled to her feet with her pistol levelled. But Elia could not fire through Zhen'var's body, wouldn't inflict that knowledge on her friend. She released her instead.

Arterus already had his pistol out, also aiming at the man. He had one hand on a tube across the front of Fera'xero's suit and another on a gun aimed right back at Arterus as he slowly moved closer to the console.

" _Stop where you are."_ Zhen'var's voice was flat and cold, her pistol leveled as she slowly started to creep to open the angle between her line of fire and Arterus'.

"Reckon this man is in a suit for a reason," Jubal Early answered. "So you probably don't want it open on the bridge. Or anywhere. Reckon you don't want that pointy-eared fellow dead, either. Might take another of you using this man as a shield, too."

"I have faith in my sister."

"Is that so?" He snorted softly. "Where's your sister, Captain?"

Suddenly, the tenor of his eyes changed. Relaxed, unfocused. His mind bowed under an intensely precise telepathic assault which first removed motor control. The finger on the trigger moved away. The fingers on the tube relaxed.

Fera'xero delivered a tremendous kick downwards to Early's foot, slammed an elbow into his chest. He toppled away, the gun clattering to the desk, as the Quarian took cover.

But Early didn't rise. Instead, shaking with some kind of seizure, he rocked on the deck, as with measured footsteps, Elia advanced on his position. "Right. Fucking. Here." Elia marched off each word. "When it comes to Zhen'var. Right. Fucking. Here."

Reaching Early, she stared down with her dark eyes fixed. Inside of his mind, she lunged and plumbed. _You. Will. Tell. Me. Everything._ Legal niceties quite aside, they were thirty-five hundred lightyears from relief. Elia was going to know exactly what they were up against.

Zhen'var's omnitool interrupted the terrible quiet of the bridge. "Captain, this is Secondary Control," Will's voice spoke, "We have control. Are you able to respond? May I launch the assault force?"

"We have control of the bridge, but keep the conn, Commander. Launch the assault force, but be alert for _anything._ Do not let our guard down. Please call Security to the bridge, we have an enemy infiltrator to place in custody." She replied, before looking to the Quarian on the bridge. "Are you all right, Commander Fera'xero?"

"Quite well, Captain, though being the convenient hostage is getting a lot for me," Fera'xero answered with a laugh, a shaky laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Launching the assault force," Will's voice echoed back.

Then the situation began to get worse. Elia suddenly jerked. "Captain, countermand that order, please!"

" _Recall assault force, prepare for ambush!"_ Barked sharply out of Zhen'var's mouth, her eyes going wide. Only one thing would make Elia say that so urgently.

" _Unauthorised transmission,"_ Tor'jar reported from the comms station… "Localised to the parasite hangar. Doors are closing… Interrupted."

 _What the hell is going on, Elia?!_

"The New Resistance Ship. That's how he came onboard. He hacked all of their systems. He was going to kill everyone aboard, but a better opportunity presented itself. They thought he was from _Serenity,_ the crew processed him through as one of the Browncoats. He murdered Spacer Michaels in the Security Detachment, that's how he got his arms," Elia spoke in bursts, tight, controlled, still inside of his mind, ripping it apart from top to bottom. "He programmed the ship's computers to send a burst transmission to the Alliance of Planets. It contains data on us and … On the _Heermann_ running ahead under cloak."

Zhen'var didn't even pause as she dashed to her command chair. "White to Ray-Ban, emergency priority, your status and position are compromised by treachery! Secondary Control, the enemy has our measure!"

The bridge crackled open with the running report from Secondary Control. "Captain, we're detecting a Government squadron. They were hiding behind the wreck. Five _Longbow_ -class patrol cruisers, six _Trebuchet_ class cruisers, ten combat corvettes, two ECM ships. Sublight sensors heavily jammed and we're having trouble with the subspace sensors this close to the interference wave, too.. Captain, they're firing on _Heermann,_ broad-band dispersal patterns, trying to find her with gunnery… _Damn it,_ Captain, direct hit as she was decloaking! The _Heermann_ 's shields aren't coming up, they knocked them out before they could be raised!" The Alliance's tactics had been brutally simple, extrapolating a straight line ahead of the _Huáscar,_ with the _Heermann_ running as beam-bait, and then opening fire on a predictor barrage pattern.

 _Huáscar_ had already commenced long-range fire, her heavy cannon chewing into one of the _Longbow_ class cruisers as it appeared. The class was a purpose-built military version of the largest of the Reaver ships, which had been converted military transport versions of the same hull. It had almost twenty percent of its weight in mass as armour, unlike the _Tohoku_ -class cruisers, but the _Huáscar_ was concentrating full main battery power on her. Distance was too close for the _Oculus_ -type ECM ships the Government navy had to prevent passive visual targeting with unerring accuracy.

Security arrived on the bridge, led by Janice Richards herself, who snapped a full hog-tie set of stuncuffs on Early; she scarcely needed to, as his mind was in no state to function by the time Elia had finished with him, now turning back to her Ops console.

"Launching full deck strike!"

The _Heermann_ was firing, too. Damaged and lamed, Abebech's attacker came smartly about and fired into one of the _Longbow_ class ships as she was launching her wing of Warhammer fighters and Foxbat general purpose interceptors. The torpedoes detonating in the opening bays from Mehmet's well-placed shots triggered a rippling chain reaction down the flank of the ship which sent her tumbling into a corvette which the _Heermann_ promptly finished with forward cannon fire.

"Captain, Secondary Control." Will's voice came through firmly, recovered from the initial shock of the situation. "We are holding position to complete launch of the strike. Seventy-two fighters, thirty-six bombers, twelve war-fit runabouts. Are you prepared to reassume control? I advise proceeding to _Heermann_ 's support with our fully formed wing."

"We are. Captain has the conn. Helm, move us to support _Heermann_ at best possible speed. We have our enemy, cover our attacker!"

"Captain, the _Heermann_ 's been hit hard," Fera'xero reported from his science console. "Readings consistent with Naqia reactors being scrammed."

The _Huáscar_ began to surge forward as the wing continued to launch. Zhen'var had elected to go straight in, and Lar'shan simply shrugged and set about modifying his attack. He understood why Zhen'var wanted to get in close at the expense of taking the time form up the wing. And the _Heermann_ didn't have much time…

* * *

"We've got battery power for a few shots, that's it, Captain," Abel Veeringen's voice echoed across the smoky darkness of the red emergency lighting on the _Heermann_ 's bridge. He was down in main engineering, keeping the situation under control, as best as he could.

"Not enough thruster power to come to a stop before we hit the wreck, Captain," Goodenough added grimly. The ship violently shuddered under them as another group of heavy autocannon took aim along the length of her self-healing armour.

"Helm, bring us about! Four-one-five mark six. Thrusters only." The thrusters were exotic hypergolics that self ignited, they didn't need power for them. Abebech's voice cut the smoke as calm and cool as a computer even under those circumstances, perhaps only the slightest of inflection as she gave her orders to indicate the direness of the situation. "Weapons, target that cruiser we're bearing on and give them everything."

The young helmswoman tapped at her controls. "Four-one-five mark six, thrusters only…" Ca'elia was proud her voice didn't shake as she shifted their attitude in the face of almost certain death.

"Firing." Lt. Mehmet was steady on his controls as bursts of firepower raked the armour of one of the enemy cruisers and four, then six torpedoes followed them home. A _Longbow_ was a long, narrow ship, never designed to face this kind of firepower, even though it had real armour. The main cannon tore massive chunks from the armour in scoring lengths of blackness down her hull, and then the torpedoes plunged into them and erupted in brilliant flashes of white. The savage glee of watching the ship break up into two pieces was met by a quiet smile from Abebech.

Then the world seemed to explode again around them, the ship tumbling and shaking as sparks leapt from the controls. Even the emergency batteries failed, leaving only the compressed air lines allowing Ca'elia to manually turn thrusters on and off.

"That was the Warp Drive, Captain!" Abel's voice called. "Twenty seconds to impact with the wreck."

"Steady lads, steady," Abebech answered, and finished reconfiguring her omnitool to power the visual sensors. They flickered to life on Ca'elia's console showing the looming hull as more autocannon rounds stitched their armour. It would only last a minute before draining, but they only needed a minute.

"Helm, see that bay door at nine o'clock high, port? Use thrusters to redirect us for it."

"I _intend_ to attempt to survive the landing, ma'am." Ca'elia replied, grim but with a hint of a death's head smile, as she started to use her thrusters to their fullest extent.

"Don't worry, just do it-Sound collision!"

Goodenough found an emergency alarm control that still worked and the sharp blasts on the klaxon rent the fading air of the battered attacker.

Abebech smiled to him and let Ca'elia do her job. "Goodenough, how handy are you with a cutlass?"

"A cutlass? Well enough to do the job, I expect."

"Pistols?"

"Perfectly good shot, ma'am."

"Quite good then." There was something sharp and predatory in her eyes as she watched the bay doors loom. As they did, a brilliant, dangerous smile began to spread to Goodenough's face, too.

 _Boarding is getting a bit ahead of ourselves when I still need to let us survive the landing…_ Ca'elia thought, as her eyes stayed locked on the fading sensor display, hands moving across her console to leverage every possible bit of impulse from the thrusters.

Then there was a dull, sharp crumple as they slammed into the bay doors and carried through them. Somehow, Abebech had known, sensed, or guessed, that it wasn't a primary armour door but an internal vacuum-excluding door, thin and light. The _Heermann_ stayed intact through the door, and the rending of metal served to cancel their momentum.

Abebech smiled. "Good work, Leftenant. Take us down."

"Taking us down, Captain… save a pistol for me, ma'am." With more space, she was more confident, as she slowly brought _Heermann_ to a stop, with screeching metal.

"All hands, this is the Captain speaking," Abebech called, using Goodenough's omnitool on his kindly extended arm. "We claimed three of the enemy despite being surprised and ambushed, good show, _Heermann._ Our current situation in this-we have landed in one of the primary hangar bays of the unidentified wreck. We have guns and arms. As always, following the first principle of our ship, we have one objective: To find the enemy, if present, and take the battle to him. _Viva Huáscar_! All crew except engaged medical personnel and wounded are to assemble at airlocks one through four in three minutes. Doctor Foru, you are to report as well, and give me a report on all wounded at that time. That is all."

She looked up, and smiled to her tiny bridge crew again. "What was it Nelson said at Cape St. Vincent, Goodenough?"

"Westminster Abbey or Glorious Victory, Captain."

"...Very good then." She chuckled and walked to her sea cabin, forcing the doors. "Get all the emergency packs, get your suits, we have no idea how long we're going to be here or what condition the wreck is. And take up arms!"

* * *

As part of the order to launch the landing force, the _Serenity_ had been underway out of the parasite bay when the order was countermanded and the doors began to close. Seized by the state of emergency, River had jammed the throttles wide open for a full power burn, sending them blowing out of the bay before the doors closed. They had caught the transmission from the New Resistance ship moments later.

Shaking his head, Mal could guess exactly what had gone down. _Jayne, you idiot_! But he didn't say it out loud. He had Jayne on his ship again, and he needed him, right here, and right now. River proved just as adept at piloting the _Serenity_ as Wash had been; she quickly pulled them around and clear of the area the fighters were mustering in to avoid collision.

From their position outside of the main fighting, they watched with increasing grimness the struggle of the _Heermann_ and the _Huáscar_ standing into danger with her wing accelerating up and around her from behind, weapons streaking and flashing across the void with energies greater than any he cared to think about.

"The _Heermann_ 's going down on the wreck," River said, and then added, dimly. "Abebech could use our help."

"Goin' down, they …" Mal stopped, paused, fully digested what River had just said. Oh, yeah, he didn't want to feel helpless anymore. He also hadn't ever seen a concentration of Government warships like this, except at the Universe battle. But the _Huáscar_ was already tearing into them.

"You're sayin' we should head for that wreck ourselves?"

River paused, like she was still digesting what, exactly, she was saying. Then she nodded. "Yes."

"Commander Imra's been good to us. All right. We'll see if we can get them off. River, if we can make an approach from the front of that ship, it's pretty chewed up. The Feds masked themselves behind that leviathan, we can too."

 _"On it._ " Manoeuvring thrusters worked, and again, _Serenity_ 's main drives burned, worked by hands that were still wearing the gloves that Elia had given her.

* * *

"Captain, we've lost the _Heermann,_ " Elia said very, very quietly on a hushed, taut and grim bridge. The _Huáscar_ was undamaged and standing into action against a force it had already sloshed around, brutally. That still left them feeling no pride or confidence, and the loss of Abebech's ship was the reason why. "She impacted with the surface of the wreck."

"Commander, I do not think one as lucky or skilled as Imra is gone yet. We would have picked up emergency beacons from even a partial abandonment if she thought the loss of her ship upon her. Colonel, prepare your assault teams." Zhen'var was clenching her hands hard enough to score the stone on the armrests of her chair.

Elia sniffled softly and clenched her teeth. _You will be strong. Abebech may not yet be gone._ "Yes Captain."

"Confirmed," Fei'nur echoed on the intercom.

 _Huáscar_ was standing off, pummeling the enemy, with her group now formed up, overtaking her and going in.

"I want a sensor probe launched after _Heermann's_ ballistic trajectory, Ops, to guide Colonel Fei'nur. Keep us on the attack."

"Understood, Ma'am. The enemy fighters and bombers are forming to attack us. They number at least four hundred," Elia answered. "Unlike the ships, they have the turn to force battle."

But the _ships_ were already _suffering. Huáscar_ 's main batteries had held the range open, beyond the effective ability of the enemy to reply, for more than five minutes now. They had disabled or destroyed five enemy vessels, about one a minute, in that time. The only risk was running out of torpedoes. It was obvious that the enemy had realised what was happening and was taking active measures to try and embroil the _Huáscar_ with their fighters _,_ otherwise it might take some time and be logistically inconvenient, but they would be destroyed.

Or so it had seemed. Fera'xero raised the alert first. "Captain, our sensor readings are resolving a major wave-front of energy emissions from the Alliance fleet. Hypothesis: Long-range missile salvo. They have localised us with sublight sensors sufficiently well to rely on seeker-heads for final approach; _Heermann_ was also jamming their sensors. Time to our position: Twenty-seven seconds!"

"Alert the wing, Tactical, Helm, Ops, you heard him!"

"Withdraw to increase time for interception, Captain?" Implicitly in Elia's confirming question was the concern about how long it would take to ultimately close the distance and find out about the _Heermann._ Violeta laid in one local evasive and one distant. "Major Lar'shan confirms his fighters are intercepting."

"Torpedoes and tertiary cannon reserved for anti-missile use… Resolving intercept trajectories," Daria was working the mathematics-at sublight, actually relatively straightforward-and torpedo-on-missile intercepts. Of course, depending on how dense of a pack it was that might be very useful or pointless.

"Ten sub-waves of approximately three hundred and sixty missiles each, Captain," Fera'xero updated as the sensor picture resolved. The dots of the missiles now populated the tactical display, showing velocity, acceleration, and position relative to the strike-wing.

Zhen'var grimaced _sharply_. "... Increase the range." Her voice was soft, as she took the decision to prioritize _Huáscar_ over _Heermann's_ crew.

"Coming about four-four-one mark one!" Violeta called out as the _Huáscar_ spun to show her tail. "Engineering, utmost power to the impulsors."

"Utmost power," Anna's voice answered with a steely calmness. Violeta watched as the drives peaked through their rating thrust and then increased it by almost half again, hitting 145% of design thrust. The ship's impulsors began to scream in a way that could be heard through the deckplates, a shivering vibration straight up into their acceleration couches.

"Captain," Anna's voice came to Zhen'var next, "We have overloaded the engines by more than forty percent. They are holding."

Daria held fire with torpedoes. The fighters engaged.

* * *

Artesia de Más-a woman variously known as Artesia som Deikun and Sayla Mas in previous identities-held the controls of her Mongoose tightly. Her first engagement in the fighter was going to be against something that a normal telepath could not sense: Missiles. Despite that, she could in a dim way sense the pinpricks of electric fields rapidly closing. They provided a peripheral awareness as her HUD focused in on them.

The Mongoose was, truth be told, not a fighter she was completely pleased with. The integral photon torpedo launcher wasted weight and increased volume. The wing hardpoints were what really mattered for carrying small missiles. The bombers continued to close with the enemy under Lar'shan's plan.

Now she selected her missiles. Interlocking lobes on the sensor dish converged twenty-four targets at once, and she didn't remotely have the missiles for all of them. Six hardpoints had been considered adequate. They aimed for the heart of the waves, the missiles resolving themselves into clusters based on launching.

"Aim for the gaps between the clusters with your fighters after counter-missile launch, then match vee and engage with guns!" Lar'shan was used to his universe's schema, using fighters to support anti-missile ops; Zhen'var was treating it as a matter of course.

"Independent action," Artesia directed to Wildcat Four, her wingman. Close formation on missile intercept duties just risked accidents.

She then flipped the switch inboard on her console and watched the final target resolution. As it completed, a sharp pulse of the thrusters swung her fighter about to face behind it-toward the enemy fleet-as she killed main engine power. "Wildcat Three, good tone, taking shot." The trigger salvoed the missiles in unison.

The moment they were gone, she followed Lar'shan in with thrusters burning and course shifting, as the missiles spread out, their group of four fighters one of countless many of the seventy-two the _Huáscar_ had launched. Around them, the micro-torpedoes fired by the runabouts began to detonate, tearing holes in the cloud of missiles.

Again, she brought her nose around, now because she was in the midst of the missiles, and using her cannon, tore through a brace of them. A flash of her senses, disembodied in space, warned her of the approach of one of the heavy anti-ship missiles toward her course, and the fighter skewed hard to right and she fell in behind it, claiming a third with guns.

Distantly on sensors, the _Huáscar_ could be seen putting distance between herself and the salvo. Twenty-seven seconds had turned into more than a minute as her drives flared to maximum power and, from the enormous radiation spike, far beyond. It was a battle of blips which felt bloodless.

Still, it piqued her memory of combat. " _Form on my right_!" Lar'shan's voice echoed, meant for his wing. She slid to the left until the indicator lights of friendlies were glowing in position. "All runabouts, this is WC50 Actual, head for home. Fighters on me, full thrust."

He led them in to overtake the bombers before they were set upon by the enemy's wings, now burning out to pursue the _Huáscar._ Artesia closed up in a classic 'fingers four', eyes scanning brightly ahead. "Wildcat three, this is Wildcat four. Forming on you."

She confirmed her wingman was in position. "WC50 we are in formation."

"Roger that." Artesia's quick look at her sensors suggested they were outnumbered by about five to one and going to be in the thick of it in one minute. Business As Usual.

* * *

"Lead wave at point blank range," Elia didn't look up from her console, not at this point.

Daria's finger firmly depressed the activation button on the automatic anti-missile systems. They worked too fast for sapient involvement beyond that point. Tracking and allocation between the dozens of light anti-missile pulse cannon that the _Huáscar_ had meant that space simply came alive with fire as they allocated their fires by computer against a metric of greatest threats and targets with the highest kill probability.

The missile waves were tightly spaced, and the _Huáscar'_ s batteries pivoted and tracked, aiming at points of space where the missiles would not be then, but instead the microsecond beyond required for the energy to cross the distance to its target. Everything was a prediction.

Space rippled with blossoms, and the energy was mostly delivered by the _Huáscar_ 's cannon, not the detonations. Her drives straining under their feet, now the missiles began to hit the shields. A rippling sound like rain on the hood of a car was all they felt or heard as the shields were impacted.

"Ten to one ratio of octo-derived chemical bursting charges in rocket-driven armour-piercing warheads and NuDets," Fera'xero reported. "Only one-tonne shaped bursting charges on the former, but the rocket fired penetrator can slip through the shields at missile body disintegration and impact the hull with considerable kinetic energy.."

"Not going to be enough for them to compromise us unless we're knocked down to tertiaries," Elia answered. _Huáscar_ caught a nuke, but her shields shrugged it off. "Captain, may we come about?"

"Please, with alacrity." The _Huascar_ 's captain barely showed the strain and worry she was feeling at the fate of her attacker, but she _was_ showing it.

Violeta worked the helm. The engines thrummed in the deckplates. The order for utmost power had not been countermanded and with the impulsors roaring in the hull, the _Huáscar_ 's powerful gravimetric impellers and thrust vanes redirected momentum and thrust with a flaring of waste heat from the drives, glowing cherry-red as she completed the turn. " _Zero-zero_!"

From the moment she called out the conclusion of the violent turn, the _Huáscar_ 's impulsors were driving her back at the hulk with growing and redoubling speed.

"Major Lar'shan is engaging the enemy wings," Elia shook her head, wondering what the tremendous engine noises she'd never heard before truly meant, as ops she had a better view than most, and the power had skyrocketed in the impulsors to almost 150% with the warp drive down and cold, but the details of the systems with their design load well exceeded and what was being done to them in that moment was in the hands of Anna and her engineering team alone. "They allowed the bombers to pass through to focus on carrying home their own attack, so the Kestrels are making their runs, Captain. They are also adjusting course to intercept us on our new heading."

"Give them something to think about aside from lining up on perfect attack vectors, Tactical." Zhen'var replied, eyes flicking across the displays she could see.

Daria took the pulse cannon Mk.1 and Mk.2, the large anti-ship mounts, and quickly reconfigured the normal firing pattern. Instead of pulsing at a single target, she had them jerk around _while firing_ a burst, to create a pattern barrage. "Elia, tell Lar'shan to target the outside wings, we'll take the inside!"

"Confirm," Elia answered and brought up Stasia. "Block off fighter operations against the inboard enemy wings relative the wreck, Airboss."

"Confirm, Ops. Concentrating fighter operations outboard." Stasia hastily began ordering squadrons to shift position to concentrate their effort against part of the attack force while the _Huáscar_ concentrated on the other part. When she was satisfied she'd deconflicted, she activated the comm again.

"Ops, PriFly Actual. You are clear to fire."

"Tactical, you are fire-free inboard! Confirm deconflicted trajectories and open fire at your discretion!"

Daria blinked tracer-lines across her tactical plot showing the firing arcs of her predictor barrages against the operational area designated to Lar'shan's wing. She pointed, exactly like they'd trained. "Trajectories confirmed deconflicted! Opening fire."

 _Come on, come on, Imra is likely in trouble…_ Zhen'var could only mentally curse at the enemy for being so utterly _uncooperative._

Huge shafts of energy rent the night as the main batteries and secondary batteries fired on the enemy. They had little chance of hitting fighters, but the predictor dispersed patterns corrected that. It forced the enemy to keep moving, jinking, dodging. It bought them time. Time Abebech Imra might not have.

* * *

"Weapons check?" Abebech Imra stalked down the line of the _Heermann_ 's crew of seventy-eight effectives from a crew of ninety-two, verifying their armament and readiness, assembled in spacesuits outside of the ship. "Very good."

"All in order, Captain?" Goodenough asked, fingering a pistol.

"Yes, all in order. Go ahead and secure the airlock."

"Aye. Come on, First Platoon!" With one squad of security personnel or marines in each 'platoon', Goodenough lead them across the ruins and age of the hangar bay. The shattered remains of fighters, the collapsed girder trusses. Stil, it was only a hundred meters.

There at the bay personnel doors, he drew up short. There was a symbol etched into the metal above it. The swords were crossed upright over the top, the laurels of victory completing a rough diamond from the bottom. A crown occupied the space between the two sword tips, and inside of the diamond shape were four interlocking circles in black and white; the bottom had a Germanic eagle, the two to the sides showed the two hemispheres of Earth, and the top one that surmounted them showed the Eye of the Illuminati. A banner twirled around the laurels of victory, declaring _Mes Werke, damiu que mon Leutle ne soit esklaven sind._ The language, he knew not, but that it was human and European, there was no doubt. _God…_

A minute later, leading the second platoon, Abebech came up with Ca'elia at her side. "Commander, is it locking you out?"

"No, Captain, I … Was trying to figure out where this ship was from, Ma'am. It's clearly the original."

Abebech looked up, and smiled wryly. "Well, there's no time for that now, Commander, but that's simple. This seal means it's a battleship of the Earthreign."

"Merciful God," Goodenough muttered. "You must feel like you've just cracked open Pharaoh's tomb, Captain. What does the motto mean?"

"Oh, it's Old New Fraconian," she laughed. "' _My work, all so that my people shall never again be slaves._ '"

"Doesn't sound much like what I've heard of the Earthreign," he replied, following her as she had started padding toward the airlock.

"The histories are written by the Normals, Commander. The Earthreign meant something different for Espers. Haiti was a massacre or a liberation depending on who you ask back home, was it not?" That question made the point succinctly, in a conversation between an African and a self-identified mulatto.

After the exchange, Abebech pushed up to the airlock. The outer door opened. She stepped in. "Atmosphere beyond," her words crackled over the short-range intercoms, the squad of Marines insisting on following her in before it cycled, lest she be cut off. Quickly, the rest of the boarding party followed, removing their suits and stacking them in the dust-covered lockers beyond. The ship had partial lighting.

"Three thousand years and the lights still work? Djinn like as not," Abdulmajid shook his head.

"Nuclear emergency batteries," Abebech explained, "though… We might also consider…"

"That the Alliance has restored some power," Commander Goodenough finished grimly.

Lieutenant Ca'elia's eyes were wide as she looked around. "More like as not, I'd say by the ambush. I _think_ I'm the quietest scout we have, Captain, Commander. Just like prepping a tac op back on New Eden."

"Leftenant, you understand the risk?" Abebech looked sharply to her.

"There is nothing certain in one's life other than that you'll lose it, ma'am, but I'm the best one for it, and I'm volunteering." The young Dilgar shifted with her rifle slung over a shoulder.

Abebech looked at the young Dilgar officer for a long moment, and then nodded. "All right. So the enemy doesn't know we're moving, see that two character symbol like so on the airlock? Duplicate it as your mark for your trail. They should think it's a regular shipboard marking. But it's only on airlocks."

Narrowing her eyes, Ca'elia nodded. "Understood. Anything else, Captain Imra?" Not eager, but determined, the helmswoman was shedding her pack and all non-essential equipment for this. "Objectives?"

"Find the bridge. It will be called the _Passrelle._ If the design is anything like that of the custom of follow-on ships from successor states, it will be buried into the keel," Abebech explained. "Scout the enemy position as much as you can and determine their numbers and strength. We will begin advancing to contact."

"Understood, Captain." Ca'elia saluted properly, and began to move off rapidly, determined and sure, even if the idea of finding the bridge in a 3-km long ship was utterly daunting. She loaded the nearest derivative of New Franconian her Omnitool had, knowing it would not be completely the same but would assist with visual recognition of what she was looking for.

"She's a bloody brave one," Goodenough shook his head. "Was it right to send her off alone?"

"She is the only woman we have trained for it. Sending someone untrained with her would be worse than sending her alone," Abebech replied. "All right, platoons. Forward!" Keeping her rifle cross-chest, barrel-down in a commando carry, she advanced in the front herself. From the stories that the crew had been circulating in the past few days, nobody thought to suggest that she take a safer position.

* * *

The _Huáscar_ 's fighter wing was swirled into action, pitting seventy-two Mongeese against almost four hundred Warhammer-type fighters and nearly a hundred Foxbat-type bombers that they were escorting in to attack the _Huáscar_ herself.

WC50 had an enormous acceleration advantage over the enemy, as great as the one Lar'shan had possessed over Char's forces or the forces of Zeon at A Bao a Qu. The problem for their enemies was that the Government forces didn't have any pilots to compare to the Red Comet. Or even the Crimson Lightning.

Artesia, flying the second element in Lar'shan's lead flight, watched the vast arrays of enemy fighters, burning hard for the _Huáscar._ At full thrust, they had the smallest chance to overtake the _Huáscar_ if she did nothing but run; but their hour of running was over. The _Huáscar_ was standing back into action. It was time to win.

They had already exhausted their light missiles engaging the enemy anti-ship missiles. That meant they had torpedoes and guns only. They were outnumbered five to one.

"All squadrons," the Dilgar Major's voice cut sharply. "Stand by for full power acceleration on my mark. We are concentrating against their left. _Huáscar_ takes the right. Go after the bombers, we want the bombers first!"

"Donkey, on my mark!" Tactical plots flashed through the link, and Artesia acknowledged and swung in behind WC50 Lead. They _never_ got flattering callsigns, her's included. Suddenly the acceleration force of the Mongoose pushed her back into her acceleration couch.

They surged ahead, transiting the battle and de-acclerating, before Lar'shan's voice gave them a sharp "break right!" and Artesia surged her engines until black spots appeared at the edges of her vision again. The flock of fighters banked back to the right, toward the _Huáscar_ 's fire, but cut out at the last moment as an ambush of fighters formed up to block their run on the Foxbats.

Their sharp de-acceleration this time wasn't followed by a new order. It put them directly behind a group of the Warhammers that was still adjusting to them. The _fighters_ of the Government could barely match the acceleration of one of the ASN's capital ships. "Select your targets and engage!"

"Acknowledged, Camel," Artesia answered dryly. "Greenthumb on me," she called to her wingman and sighted the first of the fighters. She flicked the lever outboard and opened fire, a stream of energy pulses tearing through the first target. Bucking left and outside she pivoted her nose past the spray of debris and fired again. Another of the Warhammers exploded.

To her upper left she saw Lar'shan's Mongoose scream past her. Four Warhammers were left exploding in its wake. A tell-tale feeling of warning kept her nose tracking to the rear even as momentum carried her forward. She saw a group of four Warhammers bearing down on Lar'shan from behind and selected her torpedo launcher. The brilliant energy of the torpedo in flight spun away from her fighter under power. Activating the selector, she chose remote detonation and watched the anti-ship weapon annihilate the tight enemy formation.

 _That feels like cheating to become an ace so easily,_ but then, it was no different than what Char had known against the Federal forces. That roiled her stomach as she pivoted her nose back ahead and selected the throttle levers, the fighter surging ahead to catch up with Lar'shan again.

"Sharp shooting, Donkey. We've taken down a squadron ourselves," came his encouraging voice. "Now let's go for these Foxbats!" They had blasted open their own approach route, and the plots flashed from Lar'shan's computers to her own. The _Huáscar,_ an immeasurably distant object, was still visible beyond by the continuous flashes of long-range fire against the other half of the formation.

She angled for a group of the bombers and selected her guns again. A brief pang of longing for something like a Mobile Armour surged in her heart, but the Mongoose was what she'd been issued and she'd make it do. Grabbing the control levers, she used thrust manoeuvring to drop herself in an abrupt lunge behind one flight of bombers. "Camel, I am going in with guns."

* * *

The stale air of the shattered remains of the ship had soon shown evidence of someone else having been here since her demise. There were the bulkhead doors which had been opened with hydraulic overrides, sometimes footprints in the dust on the floors. Abebech tread lightly, like she were walking in a tomb.

From her historical perspective on the Earthreign, Goodenough rather fancied she might be thinking exactly that. This had been the crew of a ship whose culture she had started her life studying, apparently. A people now erased from the multiverse by their own hubris and the mysterious formation of the Fracture.

They didn't have any of the fancy drones that a proper ground force would to scout ahead. It was just eyeballs. As time went on, Abebech's insistence on staying quiet and moving quickly were exhausting a crew that after all were the bedraggled survivors of a crashing ship, not an elite invasion force. The initial surge of adrenaline at the prospect of carrying on the fight had faded away.

It was then, at the slump in their energy, wanting to stop and eat, that they heard noises ahead. Abebech raised her left hand. The rest of the group, their two crude scratch platoons, ground to a halt. "Commander," Abebech's eyes never wavered from looking ahead. "Turn out the troops, quietly, to the flanking corridors."

With that, she started to walk forward again. Goodenough closed his eyes for a moment. Her voice suggested that she did not expect to return. _What the hell are you gaming at now Commander?"_ But he activated his omnitool at a whisper. "Squads Epsilon and Gamma, turn out to the left. Eta and Delta, right flanking corridors. Use any debris you can to dig in."

Abebech had advanced out of sight, and for a moment Goodenough felt an intense wave of melancholy. He liked the woman, liked his Captain, and didn't want her alone. They settled down, assumed their positions, and waited. When the gunshots started, they never had the chance to advance.

The Alliance troopers mustering were suddenly introduced to a hurled grenade. It detonated in their midst as rapid-fire from a pulse rifle split the air. The grenade shook the corridor, and six of them fail. Another four fell to the gun as Abebech turned the corner.

Another group of troopers advancing on her down the corridor froze in place-no less than eight at once as an inexorable power locked down their muscles. "What are you doing defiling one of the ships of the Terran Reich?" Her voice echoed down the corridor distantly, laced with bitter power.

A third group turned a corner and were swept by her gun. Her accuracy was inerring and the second group of frozen soldiers did not, could not take advantage of any distraction in her. Twelve soldiers laying dying ahead, ten behind, eight frozen like statues as she lankily, lazily walked past them.

Then an entire different kind of threat flung herself around the same corner, with a gun barking. She kicked off one of the walls and lunged for Abebech, going for her sword. Abebech tracked with her own carbine and fired, and fired.

Stunned by the resistance, the woman in the straight, black wig flung herself to the deckplates against the thin cover of an open access hatch into wiring in the bulkhead. For a moment, there was a standoff between the two, pistol and rifle, telepath…

...And telepath.

"I see River has found some new friends," the woman-child remarked, staring at Abebech in almost wonder. "And what friends they are."

"Your name is Kalista, and you are the new generation of Parliamentary Operative," Abebech answered matter-of-factly.

 _Get out of my head,_ Kalista answered.

 _Get out of my ship,_ Abebech countered.

 _The crew of this ship is our foremothers; and they have been dead three thousand years,_ Kalista answered, pitting her strength against Abebech. She found the contest shockingly inequal. For a moment, the female Operative faced defeat.

Then she did something ruthless enough that Abebech seemed to be unprepared for it. Kalista knew, in a heartbeat of realisation, that she was outmatched. Immensely outmatched. Only savagery would turn the tables on the power pressing against her mind, and it had to be fast; within microseconds. That left one option. She shot her own troops that Abebech was in the minds of, controlling, freezing. The headshots were fatal, and as Abebech felt the open-shut nature of The Door taking souls, she froze in a strange state of horror… And ecstasy.

Kalista took advantage of the distraction, and lunged forward in a single, all-or-nothing effort, and plunged her sword deep into Abebech's chest. Dark red blood gently drizzled from the wound, strangely oozing like ichor, and Abebech whispered as she toppled back against the wall. "You're good." A smile was locked in a rictus on her face.

"Thank you. Why didn't you expect that?" The blade was straight through the woman's heart, she'd be dead in a moment, still Kalista was intensely curious about this outlander Telepath and the strange ship she had come in on.

"I try to think better of people than that," Abebech replied, oddly composed, and slumped against the wall.


	29. Episode 6 Act 2

**Act Two**

Fei'nur had made sure that even the single squad of Marines on the _Heermann_ was properly equipped; in fact, she had insisted on giving the Security personnel the same equipment as well. That meant Goodenough had two squad support weapons at his disposal when laying out his position in the corridors.

There was nothing like the savagery of tight, confined quarters fighting, but the Government troops attacking them, the 'purple bellies' according to the slang of the out-worlders, were anything but motivated. Their caution suggested they had run into more than they had expected, and it made Goodenough's throat go dry. He figured that would be the attitude of what was left of them after whatever Abebech had done; but they would have made sure Abebech wouldn't be coming back.

 _Well, she did it for us. Not going to waste it now, are we, Johnny?_ Pistol pressed into hand, smoothed up against one of the great ribs of the ship, the squad weapon near his position fired and fired again, scouring the old, cracked adhesive from the structure of the ship. Charge bursts tore through ancient, corroded bulkheads, too, and the lights failed. But mostly, they kept the heads of the Government troops down.

They were in contact at two places, rapidly becoming four and then five as the Government troops drilled their way through bulkheads into rooms to try and flank the main positions of the _Heermann_ 's crew. They retaliated by an aggressive use of stun and plasma grenades to drive them out of cover, the explosions automatically flipping lenses to full polarisation and sending thunderous booms worthy of a Ship of the Line's broadside howling down the corridors.

Abdulmajid came up to him. "Sir, can we make a push toward the Commander, God Willing. We have completely stopped them. I have my reserve squads."

"We don't know how many there are," Goodenough answered. The conversation was abruptly interrupted by some of the Government troops lunging, trying to take advantage of the figures visible in the corridor with the approach of Lt. Mehmet's squads. But they fired on automatic from the hip, two squads worth, and filled the corridor. Two of the purple-bellies toppled as Goodenough leaned out and joined in with his pistol, though he certainly didn't hit them himself.

"Doesn't matter," Abdul shrugged. "She's over there. Come, Commander, what is _Heermann_ without the Abyssinian? There's none finer."

"You're right," Goodenough muttered and shook his head. "But we might get ourselves all killed."

"We must at least try, the rest is up to the Will of God!"

"...You're right. Dear Lord. All right." Goodenough looked at the slight Turkish man, who was shaking with emotional intensity. Abdulmajid was such a private person it was sometimes impossible to figure him out, more alien than an alien at times frankly, but now his emotional commitment to the crew of the _Heermann_ was as clear as Goodenough's own.

"Squads, form for attack!" Abdul held his hand up.

Goodenough stepped out a minute later. "Forward by covering and fire!" Advancing behind hurled grenades, the lead squad pressed down the corridor first.

Mehmet's reserves followed. The purple-bellies seemed astonished at their attack. There was a fitful sputtering of their defensive efforts, before they retired. "Come on, forwards!"

Retreat in this kind of situation was the most deadly act of all. As the Government soldiers tried to fall back, the weapons of the _Heermann_ 's crew spoke without pity. Bringing their squad support weapon forward passed the bodies of a dozen of their foes, they turned left to follow the route that Abebech had gone, the squad weapon covering their right as the manoeuvre also served to flank the Government troops to the enemy's right flank.

They must have carried on a hundred meters of corridor, the entire right of the enemy attack collapsing, when they saw it. The piles of bodies, _dozens,_ maybe thirty, sprawled across a corridor and one access room. It brought Goodenough up short.

There was no sign of Commander Imra, but… Abdulmajid tore at his hair in frustration.

"God have mercy," Goodenough muttered. "We know she did this, but if she isn't here, and they were here…"

"Not yet, Commander! Don't even say it!" The tactical officer's eyes lit with a wild fury. "Come on, _Heermann!_ We will continue to attack!" A mass of reinforcements coming up the corridor for the Government defenders stopped short to see their enemies this far forward. Abdulmajid threw his hand up. "Fix-bayonets!"

 _Oh Christ, he's not stopping for anything._ Goodenough raised his own pistol. "Covering fire! Fix-bayonets! We'll give them cold steel!"

The crew of the _Heermann_ had expressions on their face of a mixture of rage-they were terrified for Abebech-and confusion, horror, even. Two men from the mid-19th century were about to order them to execute a _bayonet charge_ in the decks of an old abandoned wreck of a warship against an enemy of unknown strength.

But they now brought one of the squad weapons forward and had set it up, the crew throwing themselves to the ground and checking the charge as the magnetic clamps engaged on the tripod, then firing a clear burst into the purple-bellies who were still taking cover. The sight of four of their enemies toppling under the heavy and accurate fire gave the _Heermann_ 's crew some confidence.

Abdul grabbed his utility whistle from his belt, normally intended for getting people to stop doing something unsafe in high noise environments. He glanced sharply to Goodenough.

"Squads forward!" Goodenough dashed forward himself, firing his pistol wildly, but aiming low.

Abdul blew his whistle as loud as he could. At least three squads, twenty-four armed, participated in the charge.

What they faced was a most peculiar cultural artefact of the Verse. Cold Steel had a particular reputation in the Inner Planets; it was why the Operatives still carried and practiced with normal, traditional swords. When they saw that compact mass surging down the corridor with the support weapon pinning them in place until the last minute, the purple bellies got _intimidated._

They never really came to a clash. Instead, the Government troops began to stumble and fall back. Again, the position yielded and retreated. Goodenough and Mehmet surged ahead until they came to the next cross corridor. "Bring the squad gun up!" Goodenough roared. "And bring the rest of our troops forward, we're getting too strung out! By God, we might just take this ship!"

* * *

As the fighter attack came on against the _Huáscar,_ her wing struggled to attrite it. Again, and again, the attacks Lar'shan had directed were focused on providing fires against the bombers. They made slashing attack after slashing attack with their greater thrust, rather than mixing themselves into the mass of the immense numbers of Warhammers. More than fifty bombers had been reduced to six.

Artesia snapped another sharp de-accelerating roll to descend into the bombers. Behind them an entire squadron of Mongeese provided cover. They were Winchester on torpedoes as well as missiles now, but they had their guns and Lar'shan led the way.

"Donkey, take your shots!" Lar'shan blazed across the field to the left, canting the nose of his fighter off-angle to engage a squadron of Warhammers, adding more cover. A blossom of an explosion noted yet another kill.

Artesia watched her sight turn green as tone lock sounded in the cockpit, sliding into place behind the bombers. She triggered her forward cannon and one of them was torn apart, not exploding but chunks flying off until the crew ejected. Her stick shook and shields shook the fighter, warnings sounding.

"Donkey, you're taking debris!" Her wingman warned.

"No time to worry!" She answered. The Foxbats cut thrust and spun about on their manoeuvring thrusters to engage, not having rear-facing guns. This slowed down their time to range, another form of virtual attrition. _Captain Noa, would you trust me with a Gundam now?_ Artesia wondered. Her sight went over to green again and a second bomber went to pieces.

Now they were firing at her again. She dropped below their formation by kicking her tail up with the manoeuvring thrusters and firing the main jets, wingman following her through her paces. Lar'shan had already cut back from the left, which meant that he caught them as they were rotating to face an enemy no longer there.

Lar'shan's guns chattered and a third bomber disappeared. Artesia, looking up through her bubble cockpit, realised the other three were gone as well. Other squadrons had claimed them. The entire left flank of the bomber formation was gone.

The right flank, having powered its way through the dispersal-pattern firing of the _Huáscar,_ was continuing to close, preparing to use their point-blank EMP depth charges to take out her shields, better yet to disable her. It was the only chance the Government fleet had.

"All squadrons, come about. Right group is our's now!" Lar'shan led a shimmering spearpoint of drive-tails, Artesia grabbing the throttles to throw them forward, main engines burning bright as the Mongeese raced across the battlefield. As they went in, the _Huáscar_ ceased to fire on the fighters and shifted fire to the Government fleet again, directing torpedo salvoes at range against the remaining cruisers, the bright lights of the solar torpedoes racing across the battlefield around her.

"Camel, this is Donkey," Artesia spoke into her microphone. "What's the plan here?"

"We'll regroup around the _Huáscar_ and take them head-on. There's not much time left."

"Head on, Sir?"

"We've got the range for our guns and the targeting systems. If each remaining fighter selects one target and destroys it, we've finished their attack. And the bombers are beginning their runs now, we need to support them."

"All right, so we're going straight into it, Sir."

"There won't be any other way to get the job done." He switched to broad beam comms. " _All squadrons, prepare to engage head to head, your targets are the bombers, again, get the bombers first._ "

She keyed on the open channel herself. "When you get past them, use your jets to come about, you'll get one more chance!"

"You heard the Leftenant," Lar'shan chuckled. "On my mark… _Mark._ "

The wing tore ahead, accelerating past the _Huáscar_ again, the gleaming gray ship left behind as their thrusters burned to full power. Artesia activated her targeting sensors, showing the great host of two hundred fighters and bombers still coming in against their home.

"All squadrons, watch your formations, parcel out to meet them, one to one."

The long range sensors on the Mongeese resolved their targets as they rushed in against them. Even with the jamming from the great wreck on the supralight frequencies, they had resolution in their sublight sensors much superiour to that of their enemies. The targeting recticule went green. Her left gloved hand, ensconced in spacesuit, snapped down to the throttles. _One second, two seconds…_

She pulled the trigger, and a rapid set of particle pulses lanced forward. As they did, she slammed the levers into full recursion. The baffles snapped across the engine thrusters, diverting thrust ahead full as she called for max reverse thrust.

Slowing rapidly, the inertial dampers were overcome and she felt, for a split second, close to twenty G's pushing her forward. Her flight suit was designed to compensate and the harnesses kept her fixed rigidly into her acceleration couch. Her fire continued locked right on target, a target which was flashing and exploding before her eyes. She snapped the left throttle back into positive thrust, the baffles dropped, she canted hard to the left and with a tap on her stick sent the manoeuvring thrusters throwing her broadside under the exploding bomber.

Then she snapped both throttles to neutral, preventing herself from spinning out of control. In front of her, and now tracking behind as her nose continued to follow her stick even as the fighter raced ahead with its remaining conserved velocity, she had another bomber in her sights. Again she pressed the trigger down as she got tone lock. As the bomber came apart, she flung her nose back around to face the enemy fleet and slammed the throttles forward.

" _All fighters, form up. We're covering our own bombers now. Those Warhammers won't be able to catch up with us in time!"_ Shooting clear of the enemy formation, Artesia couldn't help but see that they only had fifty-four of seventy-two fighters still in action. They had destroyed the bomber attack on the _Huáscar,_ and with her advantages in range, that might be decisive; but it had come at a grim cost.

Already well familiar with that from the One Year War, she glinted in her cockpit, settled herself in place as the gravity pushed her back. Burning fast and hard, the fighters moved to defend their own. The bombers were commencing their runs. There was no time for worry, and less for regret. She was only eighteen, and she had been an ace in the Federation service, let alone now.

* * *

"The fighters are starting to retreat, Captain," Elia said from Ops. "The attack has disintegrated. I'm charting a course for the helm around the wreckage so that any cripples don't try to ambush us with EMP charges. Our bomber attack is now developing."

"Understood, very well done to the Wing. I want to get the Colonel onto that wreck as quickly as possible, still."

"They still have a large number of gunboat-type vessels hanging back in formation," Fera'xero noted. "They could intercept any assault landing."

"Wait for the outcome of the bomber attack, then? We're still dealing serious damage to their capital ships," Daria asked. It felt rather murderous; they were receiving no answering fire at all at this range. But the wing was carrying home the attack, and it was for the preservation of _their_ lives that she felt comfortable continuing to hammer the enemy cruisers.

"I dislike waiting this long, our attacker crew needs _assistance._ The _very moment_ it is clear, understood?"

"Understood," Violeta said sharply. "Course is laid in."

Elia pursed her lips as another cruiser tumbled out of formation dead. She'd seen the _Serenity_ go in.

* * *

River had piloted the _Serenity_ into position against one of the docking collars that had an active light. It had taken some time to secure themselves, but now they were in, armed, and ready to go.

"All right, the plan is to find the _Heermann_ 's crew and pull them out. We can accommodate all of them for long enough to get back to the _Huáscar._ Zoe, you're still not fully better, so you stay behind and guard the ship with Inara."

"You sure, Sir?" She had shown up in the bay with her short carbine. "I think you need every hand you can get."

"You've got …"

"A newborn? Yes, I do, Sir. The Alliance doesn't care about that, Sir."

Mal opened his mouth and closed it again. "All right. _Kaylee,_ you're staying behind with the ship."

"With pleasure, Cap'm!" It wasn't like she much liked leaving _Serenity,_ let alone for a prospective fight.

"We're all really just there to cover her, ain't we, Captain?" Jayne gestured to River.

"Yes," River answered, still dressed in the black uniform she had been given, and now sporting one of the _Huáscar'_ s charge rifles. With that, she walked through the airlock.

" _And to keep Simon safe so he can help anyone who's wounded,_ " Mal hollared, and started off after her.

There was something sinister about the enormous logo that greeted them as they stepped onto the dead hulk. It was etched like a memory, a tombstone, of a long ago trauma. Mal looked at it for a long time. "Those look like Operatives' swords," he remarked to the image of the crossed blades surmounting the laurels of victory.

"Was this one of the interstellar cryo-ships?" Zoe asked.

"Whatever it is, it's as old as hell," Jayne muttered, stalking ahead to keep up with River.

"No, it's more than that," Simon explained. "With that jamming field, it has to be capable of FTL. So it's not something that came with us from Earth-that-Was."

"Then what was it?"

River turned around for a moment at the front of their little column. "One of the last survivors of a destroyed people," she answered. "There's suffering in every bulkhead."

The other members of _Serenity's_ crew exchanged an uncomfortable glance. That was the kind of tone that River usually used when she was serious-and right.

* * *

The _Huáscar_ 's three squadrons of Kestrel bombers sectioned themselves in ten flights of four. Each targeted a separate ship. The lead of Bomber Two, Captain (courtesy Major) Vanessa Carter, brought her tubes green. They replaced the multi-function ground attack rotary with a set of two angled-downward launch tubes. Each one held ten solar torpedoes packed in nose to tail, being electrically fired; something like an old MetalStorm weapon, the chain firing of the torpedoes produced a massive salvo against a single target-or two, but no more.

Morale had been dubious as they forged ahead despite the lack of escort, taking long-range fire from the cruisers, with the Government gunboats rapidly closing on them with a pincer movement. That changed, and for the better. "All craft, this is Bomber Two Lead. The Wing's coming back in. Hold steady against those gunboats. All craft stand by your missiles."

"Missiles standing by."

"Target them and fire on lock," she clarified a moment later, activating her own auto-track targeting pod and selecting missile control.

"Hey Boss," her GIB, Michael Ginty, piped up. "We're taking missile tracking sweeps now. They're trying to lock on."

"All birds, missile engagement. Dump decoys and activating jamming pods! Get your anti-fighter salvoes off first!" Her pod sounded tone lock and with anti-fighter missiles selected, she depressed the trigger, salvoing eight of them off the rails toward the incoming gunboats. With nuclear-scale warheads they were far more powerful than anything they'd faced from the enemy so far.

"Bomber Two, break left and reacquire targets on the forward part of the enemy fleet!" She banked as the decoys flew on ahead, and then brought thrust up to full power. The squadrons to the right went right as their decoys stayed on ahead as well. The trick from that was that while it split them up into two groups, it would look to the sensors on the incoming gunboats like there was still one formation that had just launched decoys to each side, a typical decoy deployment pattern.

The gunboats fired their missiles and began evasives against the incoming fire. Chief Ginty punched the control that began to vent plasma from the warp drives, useless at the moment anyway, to create an anti-laser tracking screen. The bombers swept under the missile fire, tracking with the decoys. Those that turned against them failed in final homing.

Their own missiles had considerably more luck. Their seeker heads were simply designed against a much greater level of opposition than the Government Navy was used to dealing with. Several of the gunboats nailed by multiple impacts exploded.

That created the perfect chaos for Lar'shan to lead the fighter wing in. Selecting their targets they dove with guns onto the gunboats in a series of blistering passes more like strafing heavy targets than fighting fighter to fighter duels-some of the gunboats were huge, several thousand tonnes.

As the fighters took over handling the gunboats for them, the bombers finalised their approaches to their re-selected targets. "We've got tone lock, boss!"

"Pickle the load!" The Kestrel surged and bucked as the launchers heaved ten rounds each in the space of a second. It was like ten _Huáscar_ s had fired full torpedo broadsides simultaneously.

The enemy ships actually had excellent anti-missile defences, and the torpedoes fired from bombers never reached the same speed as from the rapid acceleration tubes of a starship. Enough torpedoes still got through to slosh the enemy capships about, destroying one, two, three of them outright. Others were tumbling out of control with misaligned engines from shock damage or thruster banks not responding to bridge commands.

The bombers pulled away, leaving the burning gunboats in their wake that the fighters continued to attack. They were the last threat to the _Huáscar,_ and they were falling fast.

In the midst of the enemy fleet stood only one _Trebuchet_ and five corvettes, now. The _Huáscar_ approached by a circuitous route, recovering her bombers as they approached.

"The remaining gunboats are fully engaged by the wing, Captain," Elia's voice bubbled with energy. "We've got a clear lane for landing the original landing force. They don't have enough firepower left to stop us." Another furious group of forward torpedo salvoes and PPC shots punctuated the disparity, driving deep into the hull of one of the corvettes.

"Land the landing force, then, and keep us close to cover the attack! Give that squadron fire to dissuade them from interference."

"Land the landing force!" Elia relayed to Fei'nur. They each knew what was meant for them.

"Coming about to port," Violeta affirmed, putting the _Huáscar_ between the landing vectors and the badly attrited enemy. Now, Daria began to give fires to starboard.

Zhen'var watched the display warily - this had already been a more difficult battle than she had hoped, and the situation was fluidly, _concernedly_ uncertain.

"Captain," Fera'xero's voice betrayed his concern as his vocoder flashed. "We are picking up indications despite the interference, on long-range scans, of thrust byproducts. About fourteen hours out if it's a squadron of local technology vessels, which I believe it is."

"Then time is short. I want to know _whose_ vessels those are, soon enough to make hard decisions, Science."

"Understood, Captain. If we can detail two runabouts to triangulate, I can have the answer in about ten minutes."

"Granted. The wing has been hard pressed, but additional escorts would, I think, not be out of place if it is possible.

"It'll have to be bombers, Captain. We have no fighters back aboard yet except casualties," Elia interjected.

"If they can turned about with missiles, to salvo and run if there are hostile fighters, let it be done, otherwise get the runabouts on the way with all possible speed."

"PriFly, arm those first two wings of bombers with missiles if you can," Elia directed.

"Confirm, Ops. Slinging missiles on the bombers," Stasia answered. She shook her head and looked around at her people. "One more nutty thing to do. Get on it, guys." There were far too few fighters in the air than she cared to think about, now.

* * *

Ca'elia had pushed her way deep into the heart of the ancient ship. At times it seemed like extensive repair work had been going on. Other times, she broke into sectors where there was nothing, just the dust of aeons. Finally, she approached the keel, where a cluster of heavy transfer lifts ran the length of the ship inside of the massively armoured structure, accessible through hatch-secured doglegs.

There was no gravity here, and she had kicked her way down into the transfer tubes. It was just in time to encounter a group of twenty or more purple bellies mustering to come out with heavy squad support weaponry. Something was up, and clearly, the area Abebech had identified as the bridge was occupied.

 _Situation desperate, but not serious! Analysis: Attack!_ Ca'elia's thoughts seemed to slow. Her hand shot out to grab a railing and change her vector as the young Dilgar's rifle snapped up. " _Chew on this, you pus-filled boils!"_ A fusillade of shots cracked out, the sheer insanity of her decision still suppressed by the adrenaline surging into her veins.

The purple-bellies, struggling with their guns under the zero-gravity conditions, stared at her in shock as she sprayed fire across them. The shots were near enough to be aimed that several of them tumbled away, wounded or slain. The squad weapons followed, let go in the chaos, as several of the troopers struggled to gain one of the hatches and use it as both cover and a position to brace themselves to fire back from.

A leg kicked out to keep the Lieutenant moving forward, twisting to keep a line of fire on the Government troops. The small part of her brain that was still rational was _screaming_ at her about doing such a thing, but her eyes were cold and pitiless as shots spat from her rifle. As the distance closed, Ca'elia tried to gauge the point at which going for her pistol and omniblade would be called for.

Her enemies didn't know what to make of the precipitously conducted attack. Four of them clustered around one of the hatches finally brought their rifles into action. Rifles. _Slugthrowers._ Of course; she was tearing through them because they couldn't fire _at all_ in the circumstances, the recoil was just too great, without some kind of bracing. A few of the shots pang'd off metal near her and violently ricocheted down the tube.

With a sharp flip, her legs kicked out, catching one of the handholds on a wall opposite and sending her at right angles to her previous vector, diving for cover in another of the access hatched that branched off the access tube.

The Dilgar's fire raked into one of the purple-bellies who had managed to open fire. He spun off, bubbles of blood floating away from charred flesh. The other three shifted fire and again engaged with her, as another small group tried to push and kick their way to the hatch.

They had almost made it when fire came from _above,_ and a moment later the three men at the hatch when spinning down into the centre of the tube. Following them was Mal, bracing himself on the hatch grab-irons as he opened fire on the group pushing toward them.

River followed, her Alliance rifle almost comically oversized in her hands, but she didn't use it. Instead, several of the purple-bellies went limp as she _stared_ at them. Jayne followed, and finally Zoe, covering Simon. With the considerable increase in firepower the fight was over in a minute.

Mal couldn't help a grin. "Well, looks like you needed a bit of help, Lieutenant…"

"I don't think she did, actually," River called up from where she was idly tumbling in the midst of the tube, her victims now asleep.

"Ca'elia, sirs and madams. The bridge of this derelict is ahead, Captain Imra sent me forward to open a path to it. Your assistance, furthermore, is gratefully acknowledged and appreciated." Green eyes shone as she looked further ahead. "I should push on, the enemy's designs are best frustrated by aggressive action."

"We were supposed to help them evacuate and then get the hell out, Captain," Jayne reminded Mal. "What's in it for us?"

Hanging onto the grab-iron, Mal regarded the sharp looking, well-spoken Dilgar. He was going to answer when he saw that River had already started off. " _River_!" Simon exclaimed.

"...She needs us…" River answered, floating down the immensity of the keel-tube, leaving Mal to stare at Ca'elia. Then he shrugged. "Jayne, if you end up in Hell, it's mighty fine advice to _keep going._ "

"So I have heard." With that, the Dilgar woman kicked off once more, moving quickly to build speed forward.

* * *

"Get her into the stasis tube," the female Operative was ordering, the CIC complex of the great old warship alive with communications as they tried to coordinate both the battle outside of the ship, that they were losing, and the battle inside the ship, that they were starting to do better with.

"Into the stasis tube?" The Alliance doctor looked up from his wounded. "Ma'am, this woman has been stabbed through the heart. It's _pointless._ Why'd you even have her brought back?"

"Doctor, she's _not dead,"_ Kalista answered. "And if she wakes up, we are quite likely to all die."

"The hell… What do you mean by …" His words were cut off in mid-breath as gloved hands flexed and shattered the cuffs restraining them. The hog-tied and trussed form of Abebech Imra was no longer unconscious, ropes cracking and snapping under the raw strength displayed. One of those hands snapped up in a blur of motion, then, and grabbed the Doctor and yanked him down, turning him at once into a human shield with a terrifying iron grip.

"Too late! Guards, everything at her!" Kalista felt a chill cross her heart. It had been _so close_ before, and… She rallied her defences to a sudden power descending across them.

At least six purple-bellies spun with their rifles to respond to her order. She felt the crushing assault on her mind, hideous shapes in splashes of red and blood, strange beasts of Hell with their skin turned inside out and organs on the outside, monsters with cthonous limbs scrying, screaming, ripping at her mental defences. The open-shut of the Doctor's death from friendly fire completed the effect.

Kalista's own defences were the rudimentary ones of a telepath trained by mundanes, in a mundane school to create the perfect assassin. With River's disappearance some effort had been put into creating a mental defence for the new generation of Operative, but a matter of mundanes teaching telepaths was insufficient. This woman was as strong as an ox, as skilled as a scalpel. The defences that Kalista put in her way melted under an assault that was as psychologically draining as it was effective.

She collapsed under the assault, and it was _her_ gun that spoke first, firing at her own men. Her aim, her training, her discipline, and her speed were all precise, and as she fired, Abebech leveraged herself up, with the remaining _chains_ snapping. She pointed her hand at once group of advance purple-bellies and in a blur of blue and black shimmering energy wreathing half of her body, entrapped them into a singularity. There were _screams_ at that.

Kalista's troops were falling left and right. More powerful bursts of energy were directed from Abebech's body as her sweat glimmered red. Abebech, in complete control, fired a gun in her off-hand as complement to the biotic attacks, one elbow jabbed into the limp warm body held against her, and forced Kalista to use her own gun against her own troops as they screamed in confusion and, yes, outright fear. _Your assessment was correct since I have more than one heart, though the outcome would have been worse if I did not. However, it neglected the fact that I was never unconscious at all, Kalista,_ the voice that owned her, that possessed her, that had puppeted her body spoke with deliberate calmness.

 _The second one was installed to make sure that people like you were kept safe from people like me,_ she continued cryptically. Men screamed at her resurrection, as wrists and ankles bloody, she snatched one of the unneeded rifles and opened fire. Kalista was made to turn in time with her.

Groups lunged for her, but they were more than inadequate on the attack. Several purple-bellies at once would find their motor-neurons misfiring, others die as their brains instructed their hearts to stop. Seizures dropped more. Abebech was pitiless, finishing even those that fell to make sure that none rose again. Her snarling mental monsters stood like guard dogs over Kalista's shackled consciousness.

Kalista could see in her own eyes, even as they were controlled by another, what Abebech's looked like, her glasses removed, finally opened.

They were red. Solid crimson-red, no white, no other colour, except for the utterly huge black pupil. Abebech shoved the Doctor's fallen corpse aside-she had been holding it pressed close to her as a shield the whole while-and fired another sharp burst. The last of the purple-bellies in the room fell. Just like that, the entire thing was undone.

 _A ruse!? You let yourself be stabbed through the heart for a ruse!?_

 _You are a descendant of the blood of the Terran Reich, put in you by hideous violation of the remains of those who struggled, fought and died. That's why you're going to survive. Of course it was a ruse. You haven't the power to take me, but I couldn't help my crew to win without showing them things I could not let them see._ She gestured toward the inner bridge, and inexorably Kalista found herself forced to walk in measured steps.

 _Perhaps if you'd been trained from birth by the Psi-Corps or another experienced organisation, that would have been different. But you have been a Goddess to the Mundanes in this system - you didn't know what you were missing._

 _What. The. Hell. Are. You?_ She cried in desperate wonder, defiant anger, as Abebech slammed the circular hatch shut and dogged it.

 _An Esper. Just like you are._

 _Like Hell. You're something more._

 _I am an Esper. I've never let the rest define me._ She made steady, measured steps, almost reverent, to the command chair, and sat into it, the old cushions breaking up from the age as weight was put into them, but they would do well enough for now.

"Code de Zugangs Alpha Sigma Nought Zeta Epsilon Tau, Beginnen l'Authentifizierung neuronschnittstelle."

"Authentifizierungssequenzaet commencat," the computer spoke, and Kalista gasped.

They had not made the computer speak in the decades of the project. One of the reasons for her creation had been that the scientists of the Alliance had concluded the ship functioned on telepathic interfaces. She had been brought here months before to test it, and failed.

Abebech spun the chair around to face her. As she did, a metallic probe extended out from it into her neck. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Kalista steeled herself to lunge.

 _Forget it. I'm still in full control. Come here._ The command was inexorable, overwhelming. Kalista began to walk to the command chair.

 _I just needed someone to get me to one of the neural interfaces,_ Abebech explained with a kind of smirking bemusement evident through her mind Kalista's, as the panels on the bridge lit up around her. Across the ship, bulkhead doors began to close again, snapping into place and trapping scientists and troops alike into their positions, as information flowed through computers, still functional after three thousand years.

And then she reached out, and dragged Kalista against herself. _Now, child, **forget** me. Remember **them.**_

* * *

"Captain," Elia jerked on the bridge of the _Huáscar._ "There's a power surge on the derelict."

" _What?"_ Surprise suffused Zhen'var's voice, she couldn't help it. Power, from that _wreck_ , that could be… _very… problematic._

"Captain, it's going live across the boards," Fera'xero affirmed. "Subsystems power transmission across at least eighty percent of the intact hull is going active. I'm detecting reactor power signatures… This is like nothing we've seen before, Captain. It's generating a hyperspace band signature. The _reactor_ is."

"Record _everything_ , stand-by to retreat if necessary!" _We are in far over our heads…_

"They're hailing us," Bor'erj at comms craned his neck to the Captain. "Wait, no, it's Commander Imra…" he just activated the bridge circuit anyway.

"Commander Union of Allied Planets squadron, you are Instructed and Commanded to surrender. Boarding forces from the ASV _Huáscar_ have full control of this vessel's electronics and will commence fire with the main batteries at our discretion." Abebech's voice was colder than usual, so much of pressed vacuum.

Captain Zhen'var froze, barely keeping naked shock from crossing her face. They had done _what!?_ Captured the derelict and… somehow gotten the _weapons_ to work?

Elia was grinning about as wide as her mouth allowed. "Captain, the surviving ships of the enemy squadron are signalling their surrender."

"... Redirect our Marines to take the ships and get them under control, then…" Shaking her head, Zhen'var marveled. _I am going to have to put Imra up for promotion again._


	30. Episode 6 Act 3

**Act Three**

The scene when the crew of the _Serenity_ and Ca'elia arrived was nothing short of apocalyptic, with bodies by the dozen strewn around the bridge in the apparent violence of combat. The outer support spaces around the heavily armoured command deck had been turned into a charnel house.

 _This is worse than anything I've seen before…_ Ca'elia thought to herself, darting from cover to cover in quiet rushes. _This isn't the crew… or is it? I'd have been challenged by now, I would have thought…_

"Did your shipmates do this, Lieutenant?" Mal asked, having stopped the others to set up a perimeter, except Simon, who fitfully checked for survivors and shook his head a few times.

"I confess to uncertainty, Captain Reynolds. I do not believe so." Ca'elia kept pushing ahead, checking her omnitool fitfully, as she pushed for the bridge.

"Well, whomever it was learned the purple-bellies pretty good."

Ahead of them was the final pressure bulkhead, armoured, for the main bridge. As Ca'elia approached, the handle spun and the door began to open, as though of its own accord.

Eyes widening, the young Lieutenant dodged sideways for the nearest cover she could find, waving behind her for the crew of _Serenity_ to do the same. _If they're who did this, I hope they're friendly…_

"Leftenant, stand to." Abebech strode out of the door, a different pair of sunglasses on, and a UAP uniform jacket pulled over her own blouse. She looked levelly to Mal. "Captain Reynolds."

" _Captain, ma'am!"_ Stiffening sharply, Ca'elia spun on a heel in utter shock, rifle at the ready as she turned to cover the way they had come. _But, how, what…?!_

"I activated the internal defence mechanisms. The automatic cannon did this," she said, quietly. "Leftenant, Captain Reynolds. This ship is from my home universe, if very old. It recognised me as a valid commander-for a few reasons. Where's River Tam, Captain?"

"She was…" Ca'elia trailed off, eyes quickly scanning the last place she had seen the young woman.

The girl wandered back in, looking calmly at Abebech. "What happened to the Operative?"

"Her name is Kalista. This way, please." She turned back to the bridge. River padded over to follow her into it.

"Just the two of us," River added a moment later, and closed the hatch again.

* * *

 _"_ _You bright sons of Mars who stand on the right,_

 _Whose armour doth shine like the bright stars of night,_

 _Saying, Willy, dearest Willy, you've listed full soon,_

 _For to serve as a royal Enniskillen draggoon,"_

Goodenough was singing, with pistol at his side and rifle slung over his shoulder. He whipped his braid behind his head and cut off when he saw Mal. "Well, Captain Reynolds. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Didn't expect to make it this far, Commander," he replied with a laugh. "They'd bust you back to private for singing as a purple-belly, you know."

"I suppose that's why they lost. L'tenant," he turned his attention to Ca'elia. "Where's the Captain? Captain Zhen'var says she's taken control of the ship."

"On the bridge, sir, with Miss Tam. I believe they have taken the Government Operative prisoner." She gave her report stiffly. "I met Captain Reynolds while seeking to make it to the bridge, his crew assisted my efforts in doing so."

"Well, you made it. Quite good work, L'tenant."

Abdulmajid turned the corner with another of the squads. "Commander, where is she?"

Goodenough laughed and pointed. "In there, controlling the ship, as fine as a dandy."

Abdul stared for a moment, and then shook his head and started laughing. "Sometimes I think she's djinn, but I don't care, I'd still follow her! God be praised."

* * *

River and Abebech regarded each other behind the blast door for a quiet moment. Kalista was strapped into one of the subordinate chairs, her skin shock white, but breathing steadily. Abebech gestured around her, and finally began to speak.

"River, this ship is a deeply significant discovery…"

 _That you know all about already?_

 _Yes,_ Abebech answered. She didn't attempt to hide it, and River's prompt bluntness made her smile with uncharacteristic warmth. _That I know all about._

 _I'm still not really well, but I understand that this ship is something deeply important to you. It's obvious. At an emotional level, not just militarily._

 _It is one of the last surviving vessels of the Terran Reich, what modern people in my home universe call the Earthreign. A society of Espers, created in a revolt against our own genocide, by the unfathomable fragments of malicious alien intelligence, which can reprogram reality itself. Espers were the only part of humanity that could see what was happening. We fought back against our own extermination. And, we came to rule the great bulk of humanity in the Terran Reich. It was inevitable, perhaps, in the circumstances, that mundanes were left with no rights… The peasants of the civic nations of telepaths. Thus, long after it is gone, it is reviled._

 _You talk like you were a part of it._ River's eyes narrowed and she took a step forward, before starting to look around.

 _It's hard to explain because you don't have a culture, a tapestry of oppression behind you. In the modern day, Espers are again mistrusted, and in some societies, as reviled as they once were. There's just one crucial difference. Before, we were told it was our own fault, that we were insane, evil, and there was no answer. But after the Terran Reich? My dear, every Esper at least remembers when we were Kings._

 _Is that why you didn't kill Kalista? It was all you, wasn't it?_

 _Yes. It was all me. And yes, of course that's why I didn't kill her. Espers don't kill Espers. Not where I came from. She is your sister, my niece, really; a heir of the Reich, just like you are. Your genes, River, were taken from the corpses of this ship. I saw it in them. They modified you from embryos in the assisted fertility clinics of the Alliance. You share enough genes with your blood family for convincing purposes, but substantial parts of your genetic material including most of your mitochondria are based on selected samples recovered from mummified corpses on this ship. Of course, the databanks of the_ Francesco de Trier _are badly corrupted, but mostly confirm what I thought from the start. This system is artificial._

 _Artificial? Your crewmates did postulate that._ River walked from console to console, quietly taking in the readouts, the condition, even the ergonomics. _Who could create an entire system?_

 _They didn't create the components. They moved them. They were trying to create a refuge from a great war._ Abebech turned back to the old command chair, and gently lowered herself into it. _And I don't think their genetic resurrection was an accident._ She reached into her pocket and fished out the nameplate for the Reaver ship.

 **Weyland-Yutani**

River stared at it, and a flash of memories of contractors, scientists, researchers in the Academy, flooded back into her. But this time, Abebech was there, gently, sure, and patient. She stabilised the girl through the memories, the flood of information which confirmed precisely what Abebech had thought. The firm had been intimately involved in the development of Telepaths for the Union of Allied Planets.

She slowly regained herself, to find that Abebech had risen to embrace her, with the calm confidence of a mother. She smiled, gently tugged away at Abebech's arms, and took a step back to turn and face her, looking up. The smile remained on her lips. _Thank you. So what makes Weyland-Yutani special?_

 _They also existed in my home universe,_ Abebech said simply. _The statistical probability of the corporate formations and mergers existing in precise sequence in multiple universes steadily approaches zero. It was an important defence contractor to the Terran Reich. It was created to engineer the society of the settlers of this system._

 _An interesting supposition. In probabilistic terms, I can't disagree with you. It is the most likely explanation._ River looked around the bridge again. _So I'm a chimaera myself. Partially the River that was_ supposed _to be and partially a crewmember of this vessel._

 _If you're a chimaera, everyone is._

 _That counterargument is also like saying I'm my own mother, Abebech._ Her eyes shined with bemusement as she glanced back Commander Imra's way.

 _We are all a little bit our own mother,_ she replied. The bemusement carried in her voice even if it was masked behind the ubiquitous glasses. _I can control this vessel in part because it recognises me. That was supposed to be Kalista's job-or before her, you. But it's more than that. You need encrypted_ ** _thoughts_** _to be recognised as a valid commander of this ship. As it happens, I carry the necessary encrypted thoughts to not merely be recognised as a commander, but to appoint other officers. They are a more valuable archaeological artefact than any physical thing, I assure you._

River's eyes flashed and she twirled. _And you'll give them to me? Just. Like. That?_

 _Captain Zhen'var's valiant courage in the defence of her values sometimes borders on the recklessness of Captain Arturo Prat, the commander struck down on the decks of her ship's old Terran namesake. She will do what is right-and count no cost for herself. But I play a longer game, River Tam. I serve the Alliance for a purpose, a true one I might add, but a purpose. The hour is not yet at hand. Zhen'var would take_ Huáscar _to Londinium and end the government at the point of a gun._

 _And just like Mal said, the people of even the outer worlds would turn against us for siding with aliens and outsiders, and they would fight. They would resist your superior technology with the same guerrilla tactics that we would use against them._

 _Correct,_ Abebech said, going back to sit in the command chair. _However, if the computers of the ship recognise you as the Captain of the_ Francesco de Trier, _though she is old and lame and half a ruin, Malcolm Reynolds will have a base from which to lead the New Resistance to victory against the Alliance. A clean victory, fairly won, with only ruins discovered in your own system to aid you, not foreign allies._

 _It's a great idea,_ River answered. _But we still need to rescue my sisters, and that means the_ Huáscar.

 _I am sure that can be arranged. Now, I ask you… Come here. Let me give you the birthright of a mother you never knew. The Last Argument of Telepaths: The command codes of a_ Vengeur _class Dreadnought._

River took one measured step after another, and stopped, as Abebech reached out. Took her hands in her own, glove to glove. _Once, we were Kings,_ the dark woman p'spoke emphatically. It trembled with emotions of incredible age.

* * *

"Well… At least Commander Imra survived," Will said as he stepped to Zhen'var's side on the bridge, the ship down to Condition Yellow, watching the assault transports board the ships of Government Navy that had surrendered. "We'll need to figure out the condition of the _Heermann_ and get salvage and support teams over there. That ship was in better shape than we thought, though I don't have the faintest idea how."

"It lasted this long, that speaks well for the original quality, but even so…" Zhen'var glanced to the display again. "It makes me rather wary. Try and get us close enough to pick up personal comms from any survivors, do you think? Abebech left us precious little information to work with."

"Get us close enough for short-range comms," Will directed to Violeta. "And, science, try to determine where the _Heermann_ went down on the surface." He looked at the three remaining UAP ships that had survived to surrender, along with many fighters. "This is going to be a mess to handle. Do we … Have any information on where that ship in front of us came from? It has to be connected with the colonisation effort."

"No, I do not think so… I do not have any proper suspicion of it, Commander, but something about that ship feels, looks… _different_ , even with post-colonization regression. It does not match the stations in Sol."

"I believe there used to be a unit crest in the shape of a shield on the bow," Elia interjected, bringing up an image of a battered and scoured section of the hull where, faintly, colourful markings might have once been.

"It doesn't tell us _much,_ but whatever it was, it was human," Fera'xero spoke, stepping down to show Zhen'var a display of isotope analysis. "The hull's material was forged in orbit of a star matching Sol with ninety-nine percent certainty. As for the _Heermann,_ " using his omnitool he shifted the viewscreen image forward until he focused in on a crumpled set of docking bay doors, and then adjusted it to increase magnification as the _Huáscar_ drifted gently alongside the dreadnought that had twenty-seven times her bulk. "She was put down gently inside one of the hangar bays."

"Commander Imra remains a marvel and a prodigy at commanding ships… there will be survivors, Commander." Zhen'var moved back to her chair, already feeling better. "The rest is a mystery, but perhaps one that we will have time to explore once our crew is reunited."

"Then I'll go ahead and organise parties to locate the crew and Commander Imra," Will answered. "Though, just for a slightly longer-term problem; we do need to get the _Heermann off_ the ship, especially if we're forced to withdraw. We can't let the UAP find an interuniversal drive. With the ship crippled, how are we going to pull her back into her bay? I'll try to think of something… But we do need to be cognizant of it."

Zhen'var had a rueful look on her face. "Let Engineering know we need another miracle."

* * *

About an hour later, Abebech and River emerged to an antechamber bustling with activity. Goodenough, Mehmet and Ca'elia were organising data-acquisition systems, by using the systems of arriving personnel from the _Huáscar_ to pirate the connections that had been created in painstaking decades of research by the Government research personnel.

"Take the Operative in the secured bridge to quarters XC-1010," Abebech said to Chief Hernandez. "Full guard, but she won't wake up for another ten hours or so with what we did to her."

"Are you sure of that, Captain?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Captain!" Goodenough turned to her. "Attention on the deck!"

"At ease," she shook her head. "It is quite all right."

"No, Captain, it is not. We thought we lost you, Ma'am!" Abdulmajid exclaimed.

"Oh, come now. No need to be sentimental. It was just that the easiest way to gain control of the ship was to let myself be captured. Too risky to risk telling you, of course. You might have stunned me."

" _My God, Captain,_ you let yourself be captured? That's how this happened?" Goodenough exclaimed.

"Oh yes," Abebech nodded simply, adjusting the fit of her captured UAP jacket with a shrug. "It was a calculated risk, and reasonable, too; the Operative is a telepath, but she is neither as strong nor as well trained as I."

"What if there was more than one? Ma'am, that..."

Abebech raised a gloved finger. "Jonathan, I appreciate the concern. However, I did know the mettle of my foe before executing the plan. I had what I need to control this ship from the start. She's a vessel of the Earthreign…" She glanced at her omnitool. "And I suppose I will be explaining to Captain Zhen'var as well. Though depending on her preference I may field this in private."

" _Huáscar_ Actual, calling _Heermann_ Actual, _Huáscar_ Actual, calling _Heermann_ Actual _…_ "

" _Heermann_ Actual," Abebech answered. "Captain, I am in the antechamber of the bridge of the dreadnought, and we continue to have limited control. What are your instructions?"

"There is an unknown force of local ships approaching, scouts are out to attempt to identify them. We have taken heavy fighter losses. I do not wish to be pinned here. Are you able to drop the jamming field?"

"Yes, Captain," Abebech answered promptly. "That won't be a problem."

"Please do so. What do you require from _Huáscar_ if we must get under-way?"

"I don't think that's an advisable course of action, Captain. The _Francesco de Trier_ is too important to abandon," Abebech answered after a moment's pause, her voice almost faltering at the name of the ship.

"Understood, Commander." Zhen'var had paused for a long moment and the tone her normally unflappable subordinate was using. "Then we will hold, as we must." She looked up and glanced about the bridge. "I trust Commander Imra. We are _staying._ "

"Well, of course, Captain-she knows the name of the Ship? A human name?" Will asked.

Abebech, on her side of the comm line, walked back into the bridge, activating a console and interfacing with it. A moment later, Fera'xero, who had returned to his board, saw the jamming field disappear like a rubber band being snapped.

"A matter to be discussed later, Commander Atreiad. I believe she has some keen interest in distant history. If the mains are back on-line… how long to charge the warp coils, Helm?"

"Ten minutes to complete re-start checks," Violeta answered after confirming with Anna. "Four to charge."

"Captain," Abebech's voice came back on the feed. "May I speak to you in private?"

"Get on it, Helm." Zhen'var had a pensive look on her face as she pondered how strange her attacker commander was acting. "Commander, of course. Stand by. Commander Atreiad, you have the conn." She called behind her as she started walking briskly for her ready room.

"I have the conn," Will repeated formally.

Abebech waited a minute. "Captain… I need a team of scientists, engineers and security personnel under Protocol XCJ-15."

 _Imminent risk of unauthorised Interuniversal Technology Proliferation._

Zhen'var's face paled from where she'd tapped into comms as soon as the hatch closed. "... I understand. Protocol XCJ-15, invocation recorded and understood. Can you explain anything _else_ on this channel?"

"Captain, Yes, so I will be plain with you. The _Francesco de Trier,_ hull number CS.1178, was built at Sol in 2908 at the _Chantier auf d'Gammelon,_ Terran Reich Starfleet Ship Procurement Command. Captain, this is a vessel of the _Earthreign._ "

"Arey?! Ye lajawab hai… a vessel of the _Earthreign?_ Wait one, Commander." Zhen'var swallowed. "Captain to Engineering, Security and Science, Priority Override, conference comms."

"Captain?" Anna sounded confused and irritated.

"Ma'am," Janice Armstrong was in charge on the _Huáscar_ was Fei'nur handling the boarding operations.

"Captain, is this about the conversation with Commander Imra?" Fera'xero asked from the bridge.

"XCJ-15 has been invoked. I need teams from each of you aboard that derelict. They will take direction from Commander Imra. I will explain more later. The matter is one of of fundamental Alliance security. _Expedite_."

There was a chorus of affirmatives, for it was clear Zhen'var intended obedience in ignorance, and the situation brooked nothing else.

The Captain's expression was still pensive and showed real hints of strain when she returned to the bridge. "Captain has the conn." _The Earthreign… an artifact of it, a_ ** _ship_** _as intact as that, here…?_ "Give me running timers on my screen, to warp capability and to contact with the unknown squadrons approaching."

"Aye, Captain." Elia brought them up.

Abebech was still on the line. "Captain, I have two neutron cannon and five turbolaser batteries responding to computer control."

"Understood, Commander. We may need them. I have teams on the way to you now, we will stand to and defend your position."

"Thank you, Captain. I have six dead, and seventeen wounded. We will be arranging transport of all to the _Huáscar_ 's sickbay." That was an ugly cost, more than 25% of the _Heermann_ 's crew, though it included both the battle and the boarding action after. Of course, the _Huáscar_ herself had lost eleven pilots dead in the action, out of one hundred and fifty-two engaged.

"Of course. We will be standing by for your casualties. I will have warp drive in some minutes.

"Thank you, Captain. _de Trier,_ signing off."

 _Only Abebech could go from crashing an attacker to commanding a battleship thousands of years old that should not exist._ "Alert Sickbay, six dead and seventeen wounded from _Huascar_ coming in via direct teleport."

"Alert sent, Captain," Elia affirmed. "We are five minutes from having warp speed up to Warp Five at your command, Captain. Longer for higher speeds, there's been some issues with the crystal alignment, but we can bypass them at low warp to run direct off the naqia reactors."

"We should not need more than tactical warp. _Should_. Now, are these incoming ships friendly, hostile, or a third party…?"

"Hostile. It's a UAP Government fleet," Fera'xero supplied. "I've been able to match enough of the signatures to be confident in it, Captain. _Keelah,_ there's fifty ships, too. Now twelve hours out."

"Yet we have tactical warp once again…" Looking at the display, Zhen'var looked pensive. "Sent once they knew our destination, do you think?" A gloved finger traced the vector line. "We have a fixed point to defend, and twelve hours to prepare to do so. Comms, begin preparing an IU burst to command with our current situation. I will review and edit before sending."

"Understood, Captain." Chief Bor'erj was at comms. "We won't have an answer back for at least sixty hours because of how far out we are, Ma'am."

Elia brought up a tactical plot. "They can't run their fighters very far ahead because of short fuel supplies, Captain. We'll have at least eleven hours of peace. Resting the crew might be ideal, but whatever Commander Poniatowska comes up with for recovering the _Heermann_ may be an involved operation. And the Resistance Leader, Bea, wants to speak with you. Apparently Captain Reynolds is on the … _Francesco de Trier._ "

"Stand the crew down for what rest we can, let Engineering know of the deadline and attempt to rotate crew through so everyone gets at least some chance to recover. I will meet the Resistance leader in my ready room." Zhen'var replied, having thought for several seconds. "We have our deadline and our goal, let us be about it."

"All right, Captain. I'll send her in."

* * *

A few minutes later the young woman with long coloured bangs and short hair arrived in her browncoat, fringed with chainmaille sleeve-ends, the symbol of the old Independent Planets. She looked stiff-necked, perhaps hiding some nervousness.

"Sit, please." Zhen'var had a steaming mug of chai on her desk already, as she looked up at the new arrival. "You wished to speak to me."

Bea moved to sit. "Yes, Captain. First of all, my apologies for the failure of security that led to Jubal Early sneaking aboard my vessel; we screwed up, you paid the price. I would go further and say we're amateurs, and it would be true."

"Yet you are the ones who will need to lead this system forward, Miss, once we pass our current, admittedly, somewhat severe situation." The Dilgar woman replied after a moment's silence.

"We do have ships converging on this location ourselves. They include Government-trained naval personnel. I understand that the Government ships will arrive before they can however. But, Captain, with your interstellar drive now operational, could you transfer enough personnel from those ships, as well as my own, to bring your three prizes into the line? We know how to operate all of the systems. We could assist you in defending the hulk." She had the youthful eagerness of a twenty-year old, ruthlessly smart and yet leading an incipient rebellion at an age much too young.

"It is possible, but it would also reveal that our faster-than-light drives are operational, eliminating the tactical advantage we would gain from surprise. I will strongly consider it, however."

"Well, we could at least bring _one_ of the ships operational with the people from my armed transport. It is some kind of extra firepower. This fleet you are facing is a very substantial part of the Alliance's garrison in the outer planets, Captain. The only ships that will be left if it is defeated are the _Tohoku_ -type police cruisers."

Drumming gloved fingers on the desk, the other woman gave a single nod. "The ships are yours, Miss." _If we can use runabouts going to warp in the sensor shadow of ourselves and coming out in the shadow of the Resistance ships, that might work… I will have to inquire if a method can be found._

"Thank you, Captain. You will be of inestimable help to the freedom of the Independent Planets and the downfall of this regime," she answered. "I will prepare my men immediately."

"I shall keep you updated if I decide to retrieve additional crew from your incoming ships." _Now you're truly into it, overthrowing_ ** _another_** _government._

"Thank you, Captain." Bea rose, and tossed a salute. "Free we are, and free we will remain," she said softly, as she departed.

* * *

Anna was long into her coffee, eyes bloodshot. "All right, that's enough talking," she said, looking around the table. "Fera'xero, Chief Héen, thank you for your input. Let's rack and stack."

She turned to the holographic projector and used her interface pointer to start drawing on the schematic of the _Francesco de Trier_ and the _Huáscar_ in position. "Lieutenant Ytash," she gestured to the Alakin woman, "thinks we should use the industrial replicators to generate tow cable. Advantage? Force can be transmitted against the structure of the _de Trier._ Disadvantage? Friction generated failure, enormous energy demands for matter replicators, may not finish in time."

"Next, Fera'xero wants to just repair enough of the thrusters to get the _Heermann_ airborne. Advantage: Certainty. Disadvantage: Time." She took another pull of her coffee and glanced to the Quarian.

"Yes, it is a weakness," the Quarian science officer agreed, "but, _keelah._ "

"Commander, I know where you're going with this," Arterus remarked.

"Yes I am," Anna agreed, and plotted out the next option. "All right, number three and it's what I favour. Chief Héen," she glanced at the Tlingit woman, "is fairly experienced in these kinds of applications which don't come up often in space. So, the advantage of kedging our own tractor beam is that it's that it's a matter of geometric simplicity, and it's quick. Disadvantage: It's never been done before. But what happens if it fails?"

"We could burn the tractor beams out, Commander," Lieutenant Ytash, one of her engineering officers, reminded her. "We could also have the _Heermann_ underway when it fails, leading to another collision or damage."

"At very low speed, Ma'am," Stasia answered, having been silent as she listened to the rundown. "And if she has enough velocity to escape the bay, then we can grab her again as she crosses the verge with another operational tractor beam. We have more than two projectors. Ma'am."

"Am I clear on how this is going to work?" Violeta asked, grabbing her own interface for the sketch. "So we'd aim one of our forward tractor beams as close to the _Heermann_ as we could, grabbing part of the bay wall just inside the verge, after using low-power phasers to cut the rest of the bay doors off that she crashed through. Then," A click. Violeta raised her own coffee for a moment; the situation had overcome any preferences. "We activate an aft tractor beam on the stern and _grab our own tractor beam,_ with the interaction between the beams bending the beam at an inflection point where the two meet, sweeping the first beam into the bay at an off-angle. We aim by varying the power between the two beams. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's correct," Stasia nodded vigorously. "A tractor beam is just a tensor field, and it obeys Newtonian geometric addition and subtraction of forces-all we need is two force vectors so that the resultant from their merger at an inflection point grabs the _Heermann_ with a positive force, and we'll be inboard hauling and running for open sea. Basically we have to make the _Heermann_ move parallel to the _Huáscar,_ that means that, say, we project one tractor beam at a 45-degree angle and then one at a 90-degree angle-call that 'y', as long as the forces balance we will cancel the 'y' components and have only 'x' force-straight aft from the inflection point."

"..." Anna scratched her head, visualising the vectors. "So, we need the aft tractor to be on repulsion to bend the forward one in the correct direction, yes?"

Stasia looked at her sketchpad and frowned. "Yes, Commander. Look, I'll be honest, I got the idea by thinking about how you dock a wet boat with a spring line."

"Hah!" Anna laughed. "I think I've seen that done with a barge on the Irtysh. Yes. We'll do it, if Lieutenant Arteria is confident that she can pull off the coordination from the helm."

"Commander!" Violeta grinned. "Of course I can." She reached for another breaded chicken tender, shaking at just how dramatically the unending alerts the _Huáscar_ often found her in had disintegrated her diet. "Shall we bring it to the Captain?"

"Do we have consensus first?" Anna's gray eyes made eye contact with each person at the table in turn, or eyeplate in the case of Fera'xero. "I want us all united. We only have time to try one strategy to salvage the _Heermann._ "

One by one, they assented.

* * *

It was Anna who went up at the head of them, to personally brief the Captain. It was a considerable group of officers that followed her, and Chief Héen. "So, Captain, we've come to an agreement about how to proceed."

"Very well, Commander." Zhen'var sat at her desk, datapads of reports piled neatly before her. "Is the risk calculated, and is it likely to succeed?"

"Yes, it is a calculated risk, and we favour it because it may be tried multiple times even if it fails the first time in the allotted time, whereas any of the other solutions are likely to result in our being unable to salve the _Heermann_ before the enemy arrives in a single attempt, let alone trying multiple times. Chief Héen originated the proposal. It involves using one tractor beam on repulsion to bend another tractor beam to reach inside of the _de Trier_ 's bay. Varying the force of the two beams would very the angle to allow us to steer."

"Very good.." She nodded to the Chief, as Zhen'var trusted her crew, and knew that these were the experts. "Proceed when ready, then. I have full faith and confidence in your collective judgement."

"Thank you, Captain," Anna answered. "We can make our first attempt now with your permission."

"So granted, Commander. May you meet with success, even if I can only look on in confusion at the idea of tractoring a tractor beam."

"Think of it as being like a sheer crane, Captain, just with all three parts formed by two tractor beams instead of one beam and two sets of ropes," Anna replied wryly.

"I _mostly_ understood that… very well. I hope it works. Chief Héen, I am going to need the runabout squadron head here, I am going to need to discuss a plan with them. I will not impose further on you with the salvage operation looming."

"Major Tu'vert will be up momentarily, Captain," she answered after briefly speaking into her omnitool, and then going to take one of the spare stations on the bridge. Violeta had already spelled one of her subordinate helmsmen and was starting to move the _Huáscar_ into position.

"Thank you. I will leave you to it. Ops, Science, my ready room, please. I need to discuss a runabout operation. Commander Poniatowska, you have the conn."

"I have the conn," Anna repeated, as Elia and Fera'xero peeled off to follow Zhen'var. She moved to sit in the command chair of the _Huáscar_ 's bridge. Daria and Stasia linked their boards to start coordinating the tractor beam operation. The _trust_ that Zhen'var put in her Polish Chief Engineer, and how casual it was, too, was _intensely_ meaningful.

Elia and Fera'xero entered to stand before Zhen'var in her ready room. "Ops and Science, reporting as ordered…"

Zhen'var turned to sit, and return to her ever-present cup of chai. "Major Tu'vert should be up shortly. Make yourselves comfortable, Commanders."

"Thank you. Commander Saumarez, could I impose upon you…?"

"Dextro fruit smoothie?"

"Please," Fera'xero's voice held only amusement at the casual use of telepathy.

Elia materialised it in the usual sealed bulb alongside her own cup of tea and then moved to sit alongside the Quarian with both.

"There is something very strange to be able to casually have a custom replicated meal while a hostile fleet is bearing down upon us. Fera'xero, you have a better understanding of the native sensor technology of this system by now?"

"Yes, I have been monitoring their performance," he answered, sipping the smoothie through the attached self-sealing straw.

"Do they suffer from mass-shadowing, or require line-of-sight in resolving small contacts?" It was an idle-sounding question, but her entire nebulous plan required one or both of them to be 'yes'.

"Yes, to both, at least in parts. Their sensors are also slower than light. The only risk is neutrino detection, which can pass through certain objectives, is fairly well refined. But the emission rate is very low and… A heavily armoured capital ship will block them."

The door chimed. "Major Tu'vert, Flight Wing," the computer introduced the Dilgar officer in its usual voice. Zhen'var's last work-around to make it stop announcing people had been overridden and no longer worked on the new software update. So far nothing had fixed this.

There was only a slight twitch of her eye at the computer insisting on overriding her preferences. "Major Tu'vert, welcome. Make yourself comfortable and get what you'd like from the replicator." She hadn't met the Major aside from in passing before, and she took a moment to study her, a slightly darkish-brown haired Dilgar woman with green eyes who presented herself at attention before going to the replicator for some Ytar.

"Of course, Captain," Tu'vert answered solicitiously.

"The Independents have ships converging on the area. They will arrive after the Government fleet on the way. They have offered to put prize crews aboard our captures and bring them into the line if we can retrieve the personnel. I wish to do so without alerting them that our warp drives are operational. That is where our runabouts come in, Major. If you go into warp drive while in our sensor shadow, and come out in the Independent ships'... I _think_ that should work, and improve our odds in the looming battle for the fate of the system?

"They only have sublight sensors?" The Dilgar woman asked.

"That is correct," Fera'xero responded. "The only concern would be neutrino emissions, and still operating at lightspeed."

Tu'vert looked to Zhen'var. "Leaving, we can do. The problem is the coordination with the Independent ships would be functionally impossible. Each pilot would have to put themselves into place without coordinating with them, Ma'am."

"Then the question is whether we can contact them to coordinate the matter, or whether it is even worth attempting to be covert at all." Attempting to keep multi-universal technological schemata straight in her head was taxing the Captain mightily.

"The way one of their sublight pulse drives works, they have to de-acceleration to a relative stop to change direction before spinning up to high speed again," Elia explained, "to avoid violating causality with their their mass-lower systems. So their courses are _extremely_ predictable. I'd say the Runabouts can warp in and drop out on an identical course and velocity with low risk of collision."

"If they do not open fire, we can use the runabouts as subspace anchors to let their commanders speak with them, and explain the situation, then?"

"They know we are their allies, 'else they would not be coming," Elia noted. "It's at least a calculated risk there, too.

"I agree," Tu'vert said after a moment.

"Then I wish to attempt it. Do you require anything else, Major?"

"No, we'll get all of the runabouts for this, Captain, properly fitted. Is there anything else…?" As a Marine officer, her expression was almost serene. She was part of the new generation of Dilgar, but Dilgar both they were.

"Actually, there might be," Elia interjected. "Those two prizes we took from the Reavers. They're in horrible shape. We had to put Dilgar crews aboard because, well, with the charnel house, foetid atmosphere aboard, nobody else would have agreed to serve in the prize crew. We offered them to the Resistance but to be frank, I don't think they want them, they're in horrible shape, and they'd cause poor morale. And all the custom mods make them obvious as Reaver ships, so, bad propaganda image there."

"Commander, what are you proposing..?" Tu'vert frowned.

"Fireships," Elia said. "We pack them full of solar torpedoes, beam the crews off at the last minute, and use them inside the formation of this fleet coming against us. If we're giving the Resistance the prizes we took from the Government Navy, this works out very well."

" _Very_ good thinking, Commander." _As long as nobody mentions the Blood Wind..._ "It should create real confusion in the Government fleet if we can get them close enough."

"That will require a steady hand and the runabouts to stand by to beam them out, since the _Huáscar_ will have her shields raised in action," Tu'vert shook her head. "It _can_ be done, it's just a great matter of risk."

"We should provide a backup plan, then, if the runabouts are hard pressed and unable to extricate them, can we extemporize a solution in time?"

"They could stand off far enough not to be involved in the battle," Elia's face scrunched in thought. "Or we could launch shuttles for that purpose."

"The enemy uses a great many fighters, and we are already reduced… can we keep the shuttles covered in such an operation?" Zhen'var was looking dubious.

Elia picked up her cuppa and drank to centre her thoughts. "We only need a very small crew on each one, so we only need a single shuttle for each ship. It is a risk, but it also might win the battle for us, Captain. I volunteer to lead the detachment."

"Your request is noted, but I do not believe I can spare my Operations officer during such a large-scale action, Commander Saumarez." Zhen'var replied, wary at the idea.

"Then I would say of the other officers available that Leftenant tr'Rllaillieu would be best suited, Captain." Elia looked levelly at Zhen'var, but refrained even from considering surface thoughts as she did.

A pensive look crossed the Dilgar Captain's features, and she gave a slow shake of her head. _Volunteers only._ "If you think it worth doing, the operation is yours, Commander. We will make do."

"Thank you, Captain. Honour and Glory await us. I'll ask for volunteers." She rose, and nodded to Tu'vert and Fera'xero.

 _Be careful, El'sau, please…_

* * *

Anna Poniatowska sat in the command chair, eyes level, expression stiff. Truth be told, she had settled on the idea, but she wasn't sure it was going to work. She just felt it had the highest probability of success out of a set of what were probably bad options.

" _Huáscar_ Actual, this is Boatswain," Goodenough's voice repeated over comms. "We have cleared the bay." Moving the casualties from the _Heermann_ in case anything went wrong had been accomplished earlier by the _Huáscar_ 's transporters, but the simple task of clearing the bay of the _Francesco de Trier_ still took time.

" _Huáscar Actual_ acknowledges, Boatswain. We are commencing the attempt." She didn't say _first_ out loud, by any measure. "Helm, begin precision station-keeping relative to the _De Trier._ "

"Precision station-keeping, aye." This part was Violeta's challenge. She had to use the thrusters and engines to take absolute care that the ship would not move relative to the massive Earthreign Dreadnought. The traditional aiming of the tractor beams would be impossible once they locked on, only the ship would steer the _Heermann,_ and initially, any steering at all could be disastrous.

She took a breath and committed herself, locking in the programme. This required incredible patience and precision, skill at _not_ moving. It was completely different from combat. The _Huáscar_ was barely a twenty-seventh the mass of the _de Trier,_ a third the length. One had been a roughly spire-shaped thrust block, one was a graceful starship. Now they were locked into place with each other only by the precision feedback of the sensors giving Violeta positional data.

"Ship is stable relative _de Trier,_ " Lieutenant Belzac, the Ops officer on watch now, reported, his plumage rustling as he looked to Anna. "Commander, we're in the clear."

"Leftenant Seldayiv," Anna's fingers gritted against the granite of the command chair's arms, "Get us the _Heermann,_ please." She immediately brought up the power routing monitors on the interface of the command chair to observe supply to the tractor beams. The ship was all-nominal and nothing should be an issue, but she wished to leave nothing to chance.

Daria flexed her ears and flashed a grin to Stasia, who flashed her a thumbs-up in return. "Bringing up tractor No.3…"

The _Huáscar_ shuddered gently as the tractor beam latched onto the much larger ship, the _de Trier._ Daria looked through her tactical display as the centre of the tractor beam crept along the inner docking bay approach, basically a giant divet in the side of the Dreadnought, continuing to adjust it toward the target, which had been put on the hull of the dreadnought by a maintenance drone that Anna had sent over from the _Huáscar,_ using actual paint.

"Thrust angle at forty-one, forty-two…" Violeta called off the degrees angle, adjusting the ship's station-keeping steadily as the force on the _Huáscar,_ even at just ten percent power on the tractor beam, altered through the continual motion. She couldn't let the ship be jostled even a centimetre by it.

There was no room for the normal computer control. They were just using their nominal target at the moment, the _de Trier,_ as a reference point. Daria was working to align the tractor beam with a spray-painted mark, using a tiny 10% load as a reference feedback.

Stasia's fingers rested on her own board, waiting for the mark, watching with a baited breath. The coffee had come before this one, even if in reality it didn't make if your hands shook, it felt like it would.

"On target," Daria said emphatically. The tractor beam centre was locked onto the spray-painted mark.

Violeta made the final station-keeping adjustments. "We are zero-zero relative, Chief."

"Bringing up Tractor No.5," Stasia reported with a gentle shake of her head. _Here goes nothin'._ And it had been her idea, too… She pointed at the indicator "Confirm repulsion." To set it to attract would be to ruin everything by a single setting.

There was a second shudder in the hull. "Twelve percent… Fourteen… Sixteen-five… Sixteen six-six…" Stasia called off, matching sines and cosines. And then… She pointed again, as something to do with the massive grin on her face. "Forward tractor beam angle is due aft."

Commander Goodenough's voice echoed over the comms. " _Huáscar_ Actual, Boatswain here. The _Heermann_ is straining against the deck! You've got a lock."

Anna slapped her comm on. "Laser level on the bridge, please." The _Heermann_ was precariously balanced at a twenty-degree angle on one of her shattered warp drives and the other intact one. Only by a report from Goodenough's crew could she know for sure if the beam was currently pushing the _Heermann_ down toward the _de Trier_ 's hangar deck or upwards.

"Up four centimetres, Commander," Goodenough answered.

"Thank you!" Anna frantically referenced the table she had had the computer prepare. "Helm, Z-positive two metres relative."

"Z-positive two metres relative, aye," Violeta restrained herself from shaking her head. She was creeping a starship more than a kilometre long up by a mere _two metres_ relative to the massive bulk of the _de Trier._ The thrusters were continuously burning now, mostly counteracting each other to hold her steady but letting her alter pinpoint position on the fly. The ship's sensors were continuously, on high energy pingbacks, referencing her position to the _de Trier_ with millimetric position, making the _Huáscar_ into a futuristic equivalent to a drill-rig ship. Stasia had helped her find the programs for that; Violeta had modified them to work with the _Huáscar_ 's controls software.

" _Huáscar_ Actual, Boatswain. _Heermann_ 's moving forward at about two centimeters per second. You have a good lock!"

The Attacker was now being influenced by the tractor beam whose angle had been modified by the formation of a 'virtual crane' by the interlocking beams. The final adjustment had served to pull the _Heermann_ up just enough to overcome the force of the _de Trier_ 's artificial gravity holding her to the deck. Once enough of the surface of the ship's nacelles had been pulled up by the thrust of the beam, then the static friction was overcome and she was now sliding along down the deck. With the beam on target, she had started to pull forward toward the open bay, where the remnants of the vacuum doors had been cleared away by charges set by the teams on the _de Trier._

Now, Violeta was sweating rivets. She had to keep the _Huáscar_ **perfectly** still, because any movement of the cruiser would be magnified through the arm of the tractor beams and whip the _Heermann_ against the deck of the _de Trier._

She held steady until the moment the _Heermann_ began to clear the plane of the hangar. At that point, the gravity of the _de Trier_ no longer influenced part of the mass of the _Heermann_ and the ship began to buck upwards. When she bucked up, in theory, the contact point of the tractor beam would go down and this would compensate. And it did… Too far. The _Heermann_ bucked up, and then bucked _down._

 _Up four metres,_ she guessed on raw instinct and the relative forces involved, and sharply activated the necessary thrusters. The _Huáscar_ notably punched her crew down against the inertial compensation in a sharp kind of shock as the thrusters then kicked on the dorsal surface to keep her from rising too far. Down at the end of the two tractor beams, it had the desired result; the _Heermann_ jerked upwards again. Now, though, she was clearing the plane of the hangar, and she jerked upwards and _kept going_ up.

" _Huáscar_ Actual, she's lost the beam and out of control!" Goodenough's voice strained with urgency for his ship. Violeta could already feel it, groaning in frustration. Daria let out a _screech_. But in a real sense she had already _done it._ Already succeeded. The _Heermann_ was well out of the plane of the bay.

"On it!" Stasia shouted, she didn't even bother to adjust the settings on Tractor Five, she brought up Tractor Six and locked it on now-and from that angle right aft, conventionally.

"Thank you, Chief," Daria sighed and sank in her seat. "Merciful Goddess of Light.."

"Boatswain, report!" Anna called out.

" _Heermann_ is under control but you've got a risk of an aft collision with the verge of the bay, _Huáscar_ Actual!"

"Ahead one-gee on thrusters!" Stasia called out. She had no right to give an order, but she needed it right now.

"One-gee aye!" Violeta snapped anyway. It _made sense._ With the thrusters coming up, the _Heermann_ 's stern gently missed the _de Trier_ by six metres clearance.

" _Huáscar_ Actual, you've done it! She's rolling free and clear!" Goodenough's excited voice was near to shouting as the _Heermann,_ free and clear, was now being pulled back into position aft to be lined up with her dock aboard the _Huáscar_. They had done it. _They had done it!_

 _"Santy-anna gained the day!"_ Elia's voice cut from the back of the bridge.

Violeta and Daria shook looks behind them to realise that Zhen'var and Elia and Fera'xero had all come out of the Ready Room and were _watching them._ They blanched in a bit of shock.

 _Oh god, nerves would have been too much if I'd known!_ Violeta thought.

But Stasia just laughed and caught the second line. " _Away, Santy-anna!_ "

 _"And Santyanna gained the day…"_

"... _All across the plains of Mexico!"_

The days of stress, facing an immense nation and fighting them all by themselves, without relief, without communication, weeks from support, had finally come down to this in their little triumph. Elia raised her fist into the air. " _He gain'd the day at Molly-Del-Rey_!"

And this time Zhen'var joined Stasia in answering the call. " _Away Santyanna_!"

Fera'xero came from a long Quarian ship tradition and he didn't know the lyrics of the song, but he knew the ship's cheer, and raised his own fist. _"Viva Huáscar_!" The song stopped then, there was no more need for it, for the rest of the bridge crew joined in with him.

 _"Viva Huáscar!"_ Win or lose the _Heermann_ was out of the fight, she wouldn't be repaired in time to help against the Government fleet, but the moral victory of her successful salvage had raised everyone's spirits. They were in, an innovating, hard-working _team,_ with mutual responsibility for their success. And their voices made the call and held their pride because of it. They would face the foe 'with united strength'.


	31. Episode 6 Act 4

**Act 4**

Deep in the hull of the _Francesco de Trier,_ Abebech strummed her guitar. The crew of the _Serenity_ and a few of her own officers sat around, listening and eating rations. Around them, the tattered remnants of what had been the furnishings hung. This was the officer's mess, but they set on the disintegrating remnants of the cushions, a table-cloth that had turned to dust. The electronics and the immense armours, though, remained.

" _The night of fire is yet to come_ _  
_ _The tyrant's shadow down the years_ _  
_ _demands we kneel, or take the gun_ _  
_And go shed blood instead of our tears"

Tapping sharply her boot on the deck, she carried, haunting, through each stanza until she reached the fourth. Then her voice took a particular vicious cant, and she tore the words like they were bullets.

" _The starry banner that did fly_ _  
_ _O'er freedom's bloodied barricades_ _  
_ _Now flaps and fades in foreign skies_ _  
_O'er palaces that empire made"

"It's hard to explain the feeling of someone who, in revolutionary ardour, supported a cause, now to find it a great and sprawling _Empire,_ which clutches in the claws of the Eagle of Glory, the old symbols of simple and humble revolutionary purity and liberty," she explained when she softly finished, looking sympathetically to Inara, as if she had teased out her own complicated feelings toward the Union of Allied Planets.

"That's the story of this ship, too," River interjected softly. "Once they were fighters for liberty, who created a new kind of society, but in triumph and victory they became totalitarian, corrupt, decadent."

"And we've repeated it?" Inara sighed, not really a question, but…

Mal smiled and reached an arm reassuringly for her. "Reckon that story is about as old as history itself. What happened to the Terran Reich, Commander Imra?"

Abebech strummed a few chords and caught a different song, a very different song, on acoustics. She cut the lyrics with a kind of biting sarcasm and each syllable seemed to convey emotional bitterness.

" _We've enslaved the world_ _  
_ _We have slaughtered, we've burned_ _  
_ _All in the name of our faith_

 _Only a fool would expect_ _  
_ _Others to settle for anything less_ _  
_ _The tide is about to turn_ _The sea has pulled away_ _  
_ _Like small children we play_ _  
_ _What is this?_ _  
_ _Come take a look at all these fish!_ _As long as you spend_ _  
_ _There is more for you to lend_ _  
_Someone always saves us in the end"

She stopped abruptly and snatched her guitar to the side, with a ruthless, sharp look on her face. Some of them were distracted with their food, some appreciated the music more than the story. But Mal listened, and Simon was almost entranced, Inara impressed with the true story-telling skill the woman showed. "Gotterdamerung, that's what happened. The people of S0T5 give it its own name, of course, because it was so great that even calling it Gotterdamerung would be insufficient. Nothing on Old Earth can compare. They call it the _Reignfall."_

"Since Terran Reich means _Earth Reign_ in proper language," Simon murmured.

"You heard her say that, brother!" River teased.

Abebech smiled faintly, the spell broken. "Our-Espers, I mean-oldest enemy did us in. A malign force that the war against tore apart the very fabric of reality around Earth. Old Earth was destroyed more thoroughly than Earth-that-Was, and the Forgeworlds around it as well. They call it the Fracture, now. People like River and I can pass thoughts from generation to generation. I have some of that legacy in me as a result. That's what's let me control this ship. And now it's what will let River control the ship."

" _What?"_ Zoe started first.

" _Wait, what?!"_ Jayne dropped his plate. "You tellin' me you gave 'er the command codes for this monster? Woman, you might be a fine singer but you ain't got any-" Jayne's words cut off abruptly in mid sentence, his eyes locked wide open.

"Don't go started gettin' into a fight," Mal said, slowly standing. "What'd you do to Jayne?"

"I am too old to have my judgement questioned by patronizing men doing so on grounds without value," Abebech answered levelly. River was giggling to her side.

"River," Zoe said a bit reproachfully, "You shouldn't laugh…"

"Jayne doesn't know what to do when a woman is bigger and stronger than he is," River answered levelly, though she stopped giggling. Her expression was a bit hurt. "Why are you afraid of me with the _de Trier_?"

Abebech raised her hand and released Jayne. "River isn't the only one who can kill you with her mind," she explained offhandedly.

"You _got that outta my head, didn't you!?"_

"Yes," Abebech replied simply, and rose. "Captain Reynolds, walk with me." She started down one of the corridors.

Mal paused and looked over his crew. "All right now, don't start anything while I'm gone."

"I'll keep 'em honest, Sir," Zoe replied.

Down the corridor, dimly glowing lights, Abebech walked with her hands behind her back. "Only a telepath can control this ship, Captain Reynolds. There is only one telepath who reliably stands against the Union of Allied Planets."

"River. So you're saying it's a matter of us not having a choice-wait, you think this ship can _fight,_ Commander?"

"Yes, we're now up to seven turbolasers and four neutron cannon operational," Abebech replied calmly. "One engine on-line at half power. I verified it through a cybernetic interface. I am very serious about no non-telepath being able to control this ship. The control systems recognise encrypted _thoughts,_ Captain. Yes, you can encrypt thoughts. I am able to control the ship because I possess those thoughts. So, I copied them to River."

"She…"

"Is far more stable now than she has ever been before, and she will continue to improve," Abebech answered. "I think that you can plainly see the advantages of the _Francesco de Trier_ as a mobile base."

"I can," Mal agreed, looking down the corridor, before he turned back sharply to Abebech. "And you're just givin' us the ship?"

"The Captain wants to help your rebellion, this is the best way to do it. It is an archaeological treasure… But it is also a fighting warship, whose crew died alone and far from home, trying to accomplish something I have yet to piece together. When they did, they left behind a genetic legacy-by which I mean the Alliance took samples of their DNA from their corpses and used those to create their telepaths. Part of that legacy, Captain Reynolds, is River. I am honouring the Esper legacy that is the Terran Reich by giving her this ship. If you think about it that way, as a point in fact, I have already matched her genes to the ship's officer list. Her name was Teresa Kaminrokoljas, the ship's Fire Control Officer. One more crime of the Alliance, to take the dead and make them have children when three thousand years gone."

"..And her parents? I mean, her and Simon's?"

"Oh, she was gestated naturally, and she has genetic material from the Tams. Simon is her brother, just not her full brother. Even reproduction is controlled for the elite of the inner planets, Captain. You know that, at least intellectually. So the State usurps even the bond of mother and child." She walked on, hands folded behind her back still, head down as she talked, but never missing a step.

"How do you know this all?" Mal's eyes couldn't help but narrow. The succinct revelations were delivered without doubt.

"The ship's computers recognise her genetic material, and I can interface with the ship. As River must, to command her."

"Does she know that?" Mal leaned in, hotly. "Does she know that? It sounds to me like you're turning her into a weapon yourself. Yes, this ship could let us win. Could overthrow the Alliance! Sure. But you don't seem to be much different than them, putting her right back into it. Putting things in her head."

Abebech was unruffled. "It's her decision, not your's, Captain Reynolds. And you're far more concerned about her stability than her self-determination. To you, part of that fear is that you might as well have crowned a Queen for the power the _Francesco de Trier_ represents."

He faced her levelly, thinking over the words. He didn't want to make haste in this. It was his fate, the fate of his crew, and River's most of all. "Why d'you wear those shades all the time? I don't much like making such a big decision when I can't look somebody in the eye."

Abebech paused for a moment, sniffed, and shook her head. "Your choice," she answered in a voice that was almost a sinuous whisper, and took her glasses off.

Mal started, his hand going for his pistol, before he forced it to slowly relax. He had seen what Abebech could do. There was no point. He didn't even want to. Despite how unsettling the red eyes were, the colour of blood exactly, with pupils so dialated they resembled shoe buttons. _Damned_ unsettling. Suddenly the reason for Abebech's glasses was obvious. There were planets he knew where she'd be hung as a devil.

Still, now he could see her eyes. Their alienness made it difficult to judge them as he had wanted to, but in this case, it was actually the gesture that mattered. "My apologies," Mal said after a leaden moment.

Abebech almost seemed to laugh for a moment, dispelling the leaden feeling in the air at the vision of her eyes. Then she just shook her head. "Apology accepted, Captain Reynolds. You are looking out for the girl, you do this with her best interests at heart. But your concerns are misplaced. She is as ready for this as anyone can be."

"Can anyone be ready for this kind of responsibility?" He shot back, but it was with none of the rancour from before. He watched as Abebech turned and began to walk back.

"If nobody is ready, then an unready person must step to the fore," she countered, slipping her glasses back on.

"You need to talk to Simon," he said, sharply, as they returned. "He needs to know."

"Yes, he does, Captain Reynolds. But River and I will tell him together."

* * *

"Come on, Simon, we need to go with Commander Imra now," River was insisting, on her feet and looking anxious.

"Mei-mei, she isn't even back yet with Mal…" Simon trailed off as the two returned. _Of course._ "Commander Imra," he greeted her. "River says she wants to talk, just the three of us?" A glance to Mal.

"Reckon she does, from our conversation," Mal explained and stepped to the side.

"That's so. If you'd follow me?" She almost seemed relaxed, now.

"Oh, let me," River smiled, and chose one of the corridors.

"Getting familiar with the ship?" Simon asked as they both followed her.

"I should," River answered. "It's going to be our home, Simon."

"Not _Serenity?"_

" _Serenity_ is a good ship and I love piloting her," River answered, "but she's not a base for an insurrection against the Alliance. _Francesco de Trier_ is. We have to bring down the Alliance, and we have to have a base for that. The _Francesco de Trier_ can serve." She turned back to face them as she walked.

"Brother, I was created to interface with this ship."

"You were _born,_ to our parents, Mei-mei, nobody created you to do _anything_ except what you want."

"Not true," she replied. "Abebech explained it, because the sensors of the ship can tell who I am. I was modified when I was an embryo; when mom and dad were having genetic testing done. Part of the genome recovered from the mummy of one of this ship's officers was inserted in me. That's where my Esper potential comes from."

"Woah… Mei-mei, are you sure about this?" But Simon was paling, and Abebech looked sharply.

"You know she's right, don't you."

"...River's baseline alleles don't match the Tam family in several key ways," Simon answered. "I mean, biologically we're recognisable as siblings…"

"Because we are, silly," River smiled. "Just because there's a bit of a family named Kaminrokoljas I don't know anything about yet in me doesn't change that. Well, more than a bit. But we're still siblings." She reached out and hugged Simon. _And that's not going to change._

"So what's going to happen?" Simon asked softly.

"Nothing," River smiled brilliantly, and an access screen on the wall activated and data began to flow in New Franconian as different sectors of the ship were highlighted with status reports. "Abebech didn't account for one thing. I've activated the telepathic interface network. I don't _need_ a jack." She looked proud of herself that she'd found something even Abebech hadn't prepared her for the ship.

Abebech froze and then smiled tightly. "So this was one of the ships fitted with the interfaces. Now I begin to understand." Her voice was laced with a kind of tension that was almost malicious.

"Commander?" The _way_ she had said that was deeply ominous. Simon started, and River frowned.

Abebech turned a corner, opening a hatch to a room beyond. It was a briefing chamber, recognisable, human. Hands behind her back, she turned to pace at the front. "I had intended to destroy those units before departing."

 _Why would you make it harder for me?_ River asked, her mind coming across as confused. A bit aggrieved. They were _incredible._

"Destroy the telepathic interfaces? I don't understand…" Simon shook his head. "If it spares River a surgery, what's the motivation for that?"

"The technology is the basis of a kind of science, which interacts with higher universes through which telepathy is but a tiny manifestation," Abebech replied, her head lowered, sharply in thought. "This science describes a kind of non-Euclidean reality, constrained and defined by mathematical forms. This reality underlies the entire Cosmos, by which I mean that thing people popularly call the Multiverse. It is also the basis of the soul, the pure essence of thought of the living-if you will, a realisation of the Platonic state of Ideal Forms."

"You mean when River is reading someone's mind…"

"No, she isn't quite directly reading their soul. But it's _possible_ to. Psi-Corps having developed the so-called 'necroscan' is teasing around the edges of the possible. You can _very much_ read someone's mind after they're dead. I've done it."

"And so this technology could lead to an understanding of the manipulation and control of energy in this other reality of the Cosmos?" River was _smart,_ nobody doubted that...

"Only reality," Abebech corrected gently. "Everything else is false-or so the ancient race which developed the technology first said. They gave it a succinct name-they called this other dimension 'The Real World'. However, it's more commonly called _The Hidden World_ by those who discover it."

"And we shouldn't use it because?" Simon asked now. "It would be revolutionary to our understanding of the Cosmos."

"It would be," Abebech chuckled darkly and paused in the circuit of her pacing. "Of course, I only briefly interacted with the survivors of a civilisation that discovered this power and they were some of the most evil beings to ever exist. I do not intend to see their civilisation reborn. And, of course, the technology is dangerous for other reasons, too. It is inextricably linked to the function in this universe of that inextricable other _Power,_ the entities of madness and despair which seek the elimination of all life in this Cosmos."

"The ones that destroyed the Terran Reich," Simon said flatly, gesturing around the room.

"Precisely." A pause. "However, the hour is short, and I could use an Executive Officer as I fight the _Francesco de Trier._ For now, let us put this aside. She can indeed use the interfaces to control the ship. Frigate Captain?"

River's head jerked up.

"Let us get you fitted for a uniform. They would be upset if I violated Geneva." Abebech was smiling. "There should be a working autotailor _somewhere._ Your second mother would be so proud…"

As they followed Abebech, the Tams exchanged a sharp glance. River couldn't see past the ornate defences that belied Abebech's raw power, but she knew there was something much deeper going on.

* * *

Inside the Pilots Ready Room, which was more of a combined private mess and briefing room, the mood was sombre and light all at once. They were sitting with steaming mugs, no time for liquor for wakes or celebrations. The _Huáscar_ 's wing had just created eight aces in a day-the technological disparity was so bad it was scarcely fair. Artesia, who already had kills, had just qualified for the Blue Max technically.

Jozef Tribecki was laughing about that. "The Reich gives it to you after twenty-one kills if you're one of their pilots. It was revived during the Far East War. They thought they were good enough to set that high of a bar, but we've levelled them tonight."

Lar'shan had _also_ crossed that bar, but he said nothing about it. He had gone around talking to each of his pilots. Now gathered together, all except the casualties, their thinned ranks were heavy on his mind. "We'll have the replacement fighters ready in another hour for acceptance inspections," he finally noted to the group. "We have enough able-bodied pilots who ejected to crew them all, with some to spare. I want self-selection first. Is there anyone who doesn't feel comfortable going out again this soon?"

Nobody raised a hand.

"All right, here's the plan." Lar'shan got up in his Marine service uniform green suit, eyes around food and tea and coffee and ytar and a dozen other things tracking with him. Half the fighter wing was Marine fighter squadrons and in honour of that his lead flight was composed of both Navy and Marine fliers. The Navy fliers were in the Aviation Forces uniform of solid light blue with a lapel-clasp and white trim which had been introduced due to the plethora of colours of in the standard Alliance uniforms being impossible to tell apart for some species-assuming that they weren't still in flight suits, which they were in a few cases. This allowed a simplification of the colour scheme on the regular uniforms to guarantee all species in the Alliance could actually tell them apart.

"How are we going to finish selecting the pilots?" Marissa Davies, a dark-skinned Marine pilot asked from the back.

"I'm getting to that, Leftenant," Lar'shan answered. "We need to understand the tactical picture first. We're facing a fleet of fifty-six ships," he began, bringing up the holo-projector image of the fleet, now de-accelerating in its sublight approach toward the _Francesco de Trier._

"So, we've got the full Outer Planets Fleet of the Union of Allied Planets coming for us, minus the _Tohoku-_ class ships unsuited for heavy combat. At close range their heavy EMP weapons can disable the _Huáscar,_ otherwise they don't have the firepower to take our home out. So they have to get their assault forces into point-blank range, the corvettes, gunboats and fighter-bombers armed with the EMP pulse charges, to have a chance to win."

"Our objective, on the other hand, is to defend the _Francesco de Trier_ at all costs. To minimise the risk to the _Huáscar,_ Captain Zhen'var intends to orbit the _de Trier_ at high impulse. She will interdict the enemy fleet at long-range, circling and providing continuous precision fires to systematically cripple their heaviest ships."

"And our function, Major?" Artesia asked, professional in the moment, voice sharp and clipped.

"Stay in close to the _De Trier._ We use her as manoeuvring terrain from which to drag the enemy fighters down. Most of the hull is dead and can take damage from their autocannon indefinitely. So we keep pushing them in close because they have to board her to accomplish their objectives. We make that boarding operation impossible. Then, we get to the denouement…"

His broad eyes were serious. "The captured Union ships are being given crews of Resistance personnel, experienced in their operation. They will approach from the far side of the _de Trier,_ and with the support of her batteries, they will escort in the two captured Reaver ships. These are being loaded with solar torpedoes. We need volunteers; runabouts standing by, hidden inside the _de Trier_ 's bays, will allow the crews of the fire-ships to escape. A flying wedge of the operational Resistance ships will cut through the enemy formation, and trailing behind them, the fire-ships will be detonated. With the _de Trier_ 's batteries continuing to engage, the _Huáscar_ will then approach to finish the enemy off. I will allow volunteers for the crews of the fire-ships up to the number of spare, healthy pilots we have. One will be commanded by Lieutenant Commander Saumarez and one will be commanded by Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu."

"Since you don't have a fighter or bomber to fly, who will step forward for this duty?" Lar'shan swept his eyes over his pilots, meeting each set in turn.

"Dangerous duty under Commander Saumarez and Lieutenant tr'Rllaillieu?" Artesia stood up. She had a fighter, but she stood up anyway. "Count me in, Major."

There was a momentary pause in the ranks, and then there was the rustling of chairs as people started to stand. People were slapping each other on the back and laughing, if nervously. Artesia grinned cockily and planted her arms on her hips, one of the other pilots slapping her back from behind. "Well, Sir, looks like you're gonna have to make assignments instead. We're all in."

Everyone was standing up.

* * *

After the assignments had been made and he had dismissed everyone to get their last bit of shut-eye, except for those deploying to the fireships, Lar'shan fell in with Lieutenant de Más, who had been heading up to Café Varna to get a snack before sleeping. She was still going to be flying.

"Leftenant, I hope you don't mind that I didn't assign you to one of the fire-ships," Lar'shan said as he stepped with her into the turbolift, and her eyes jerked up.

"No, certainly not, Major. It was done more for the camaraderie than anything else, though I would have taken the assignment as any other," she answered, keying in her destination. "Are you going to get something to eat, too?"

"I believe so," he answered. "That was the talent of a natural leader, Leftenant."

Artesia pursed her hands on her hips again. "Maybe. It just seemed the right thing to do at the time. Why did you decide to keep my assignment?"

"To put it plainly, Leftenant, you are my best pilot," he answered honestly. "We are almost wasted in the same flight. I will put you in as a replacement flight leader for Leftenant Fallon," he grimaced, for Fallon was one of the slain, "in SC-4, Beta flight. That should give you a more target rich environment to operate in, since they were the lowest performers during the last engagement."

"I am to stiffen them, you mean," Artesia answered.

"Well, frankly, that's quite so. We are going to be in a very hard fight. Our technological superiority is great, but we will be facing odds worthy of Ter'shar at Ofelka."

"I'm not familiar with the reference, but I've fought these odds before, so it isn't necessary," Artesia replied, pressing her hands down against the hand-rail. "To be honest, it feels a bit like murder, Major. Like what Zeon was doing to the Federal Navy before the widespread introduction of Federal Mobile Suits. We completely outgun them."

"It does," Lar'shan agreed as the doors opened and he strode out with Artesia at his side, to his left and a half step behind. "But if it was perfectly honourable, they would face us one to one, not in waves outnumbering us six to one. In that case, all you can really do is keep your comrades safe. That is a kind of honour, too. My father would have been more rigid about it, perhaps, but I don't like to write those letters. There will already be enough, and against these odds, I know that there will also be more."

"Agreed." Artesia shook her head gently. "We will face them, and the rest will come what may."

Inside, Elia was drinking tea and eating some kebabs across from Arterus, who was drinking khavas and enjoying a similiar repaste. Lar'shan grinned. "Commander, Leftenant. I admit I was expecting you to be readying for your departure."

"One more good meal first," Elia answered. "I thought you'd be asleep, Major, Leftenant."

"A snack before bed," Artesia answered.

"Well, have a seat. Shaping up to be a bloody business tomorrow," she tapped her watch. "Well, seven and a half hours, close enough."

"And you asked for the heart of it," Lar'shan offered after sitting. "Seven of my pilots without fighters have volunteered, by the way."

"Information already showed up on our omnitools, thank you, Major," Arterus answered, looking a bit pensive if Artesia could read Rihannsu facial expressions at all. She turned away briefly to order from Alexandra.

"Quite so," Elia agreed. "As for being in the heart of it, well, if not us, then whom? It's impressive how much capability Abebech has restored on the _de Trier,_ and I don't want to see that ship destroyed. It's an archaeological marvel of a lost Empire of Telepaths, that's the way I see it. Of course, we're about to thrust it into battle, but even so…"

"An archaeological marvel, ma'am, but is it actually worth holding our position for?" Artesia tilted back in her chair, legs sharply crossed.

Elia regarded her for a moment. "I do think the only chance to have secrets of the Earthreign revealed might be worth a few deaths, actually, which I suppose is part of why I made sure to volunteer for the most dangerous post. They won't call me a hypocrite, you know, Leftenant. But as a practical matter, the ship had to get here somehow or another, and I've heard rumours about what they've found aboard."

" _Oh…_ "

* * *

Will Atreiad had taken a nap after the end of the action, and then been awakened by a message from Fera'xero. They needed to coordinate an operation on the _Francesco de Trier._ Five minutes later, he met up with Lieutenant Ter'maro from Engineering, the Dilgar crisply leading a squad of twelve.

"Do you have any idea what's going on, Sir?" The Dilgar man was a dun brown, short Rohrican who looked up with wide-blinking blue eyes at Will. "We haven't even received a briefing."

"Neither have I, actually."

"If they're not telling you, Sir…" Ter'maro shook his head and growled. "Well, this is going to be interesting, Sir. Not looking forward to being off the ship and on that hulk. I hope we manage to get back before we're engaged."

"We should. I couldn't imagine anything else being accepted," Will answered, shaking his head. This was truly weird. "All right. Stand by to transport." he stepped up onto the pad and the team followed him.

A moment later in the flash of white light of the Darglan-style transporters, they stood before what looked like the engineering spaces of the _Francesco de Trier._

Will looked around. The coincidences had been maddening to him, in the little time he had had to think. This _was_ Cyrannus, but it had been altered by an enormously sophisticated power. _The Earthreign?_ The Fracture was proof of some kind of hideous, reality-altering cataclysm. Artificial suns and natural stars thrown about seemed minor in comparison.

 _Three thousand years… Right on time._ The Reignfall and the out-migration of his ancestors had happened around the same time. The out-migration had happened here around the same time, too, but in a radically different universe with very different results.

It had once been a break room, and on the mouldering wall was a bit of an invocation, in New Franconian. He used his omnitool to translate it. _That the work of our ancestors not be undone._

He shook his head. Will kept looking for signs of consanguinity between the people of this system and his own, but they were madly elusive. He desperately wanted to tour the Inner Worlds and see what they were like, irrevocably altered thousands of years before and yet several of them similar to his own homeworlds, to see if their cultures indeed converged.

But on this ship he would not find signs like that. It was a different kind of monument, one devoted to the Earthreign and still an enigma as it sat before them, even now.

Ter'maro brushed his shoulder and Will jerked. "Sir, Commander Fera'xero is here."

"Ah. Commander." He looked up.

"Commander, Sir," Fera'xero answered. "This way with your team, please. Though, _keelah,_ the ship _is_ quite astonishing."

"A riddle wrapped in an enigma, more like." Will shook his head. "What was the Earthreign _doing_ here? In another universe?"

"I don't know, Commander. But I have discovered how they got here." The Quarian came to a stop in another engineering chamber, and slowly Will's face lost all expression.

"Oh Gods this is Big. This is real big. I see why you brought me now." Will stared, sheepishly wide-eyed, at what in retrospect was obvious. Stupidly, blindingly obvious. The ship had to have gotten here _somehow._

It had gotten here under its own power. Will and Fera'xero were looking at a Darglan Interuniversal Drive. "That's not even a _copy,_ is it?" Will finally managed to ask.

"Correct, Commander. It's an original, built by the Darglan. We've already called for a cargo shuttle to bring it back to the _Huáscar,_ I needed the help of a team and a senior officer to supervise security and secrecy to finish it and quickly."

"Got it," Will acknowledged, shaking his head closely. "Of course they had an Interuniversal Drive on board…. Gods, what in Hades were the _Darglan_ doing associating with the _Earthreign_?"

"Unknown, Commander…" Fera'xero held his left hand up. "However, consider this observation: The Reignfall in standard chronology of consensus historians was three thousand years ago, ending in the Fracture. The scouring of your Earth was three thousand years ago. The Gersallian legend of the Darkness War of Swenya-is dated to three thousand years ago. The end of Darglan interuniversal civilisation - was three thousand years ago. And so here we have a ship of the Earthreign, from the period of the Reignfall, with a Darglan interuniversal drive aboard. A rational observer could conclude that all of the events are fundamentally linked."

Will felt a slowly spreading chill in his body. It was a peculiar feeling, like he had discovered something very, very wrong. He remembered the _Aurora_ 's classified mission the crew of the _Heermann_ had not-quite talked about from the year before, that had led to extremely heavily damage. He remembered strange goings-on at the Citadel. "I feel like I've come across a secret history of the universe, Fera'xero."

"Ancestors protect us, but we might have, Commander." He stepped closer to the drive. "Let's get started."

Will was about to step in with him when a chime sounded in the engineering spaces. One of the walls glowed and then resolved into a massive, three-dimensionalised image. Standing in it was a trim, black-haired young woman wearing a white uniform jacket with a black and gold striped waist-belt, black collar with gold rank tabs, gold epaulettes and aiguillette, black and gold cuff-stripes over black cuffs-the classic 'Brandenburger' style the Nazis had-and gold cufflinks and, on the right breast, a prominent black eagle, not the Nazi one but older, more archaic, clutching lightning bolts and an olive branch in its claws with stylised rockets crossed in an X behind it. Her right sleeve bore a black badge stripe with the Fraktur script of New Franconian. _Francesco de Trier._ Her upper arm sleeves were flashed with the badge of the Earthreign, and a row of rank boards covered her left breast with a single decoration, a white scarf wrapped around the neck at a jaunty angle instead of a tie, and a full peaked cap with that eagle, minus the rockets, again repeated. She folded black gloved hands, and Will felt like he was looking at a ghost. Then she spoke, and he realised it was River Tam.

"Commander Atreiad, your shuttle has requested a docking vector. I've sent them to the nearest bay and you'll have a data-packet from Commander Imra momentarily to give you the best route to evacuate the Interuniversal Drive. I'd rather keep it aboard the _de Trier,_ but I know your Alliance wouldn't be happy about it, so it's a fair trade." She had a bit of a chipper grin.

"Ah, of course…"

" _Kapitan-de-Fregate,_ so we rank equally," River was insouciant.

"That's an Earthreign uniform." he didn't bother making it a question.

"Well-spotted," River teased. "The enemy is only six hours away. Better be about it, gentlemen." Her image flashed away again.

"Gods… What in Hades is Abebech _up to_?"

"Commander, the Captain will doubtless receive a full accounting. Until then, I don't suggest caring. We have too much to worry about." Fera'xero paused. "And it is Abebech."


	32. Episode 6 Act 5

**Act 5**

Aboard the _Huáscar,_ Va'tor cautiously made her approach to Nah'dur's office. As the Mental Hygienist and lead Mha'dorn for the ship, she had been Read In, and so, thinking about it, what was happening wasn't terribly surprising. But it was still disconcerting for all of them.

Nah'dur was curled in her office chair, eating some Tarik-gel soup, with her ytar at her side, looking half asleep. But her eyes shot alert as Va'tor approached, then she relaxed. "Va'tor," she offered, looking abruptly very alert. "You have come to commence my project? We have enough time to do it now, before the enemy arrives. Even if the original motivation was overcome by events, I do believe it could be useful for propaganda purposes. I've selected a subject, one of the originals, who has military tattoos."

"Ah.." Va'tor was drawn up short. _The recovery of the mind of one of the Reavers? Gods, of course that's what she wants to do, now, of all times._ "Not quite. I was going to ask, how is Spacer Michaels? The man that Jubal Early _killed._ "

"Oh, he's fine," Nah'dur answered dryly. "Why even ask that question? I finished the procedures and restarted his heart and confirmed brain-wave function hours ago."

Va'tor leaned against the door-frame. The Dur, and the Jhur alike, were not telepaths. It was not _really_ a surprise. "I just thought you should know, as a point in fact, that the telepaths on this ship can feel it when you bring someone back to life, Nah'dur. It is disconcerting to many."

"Is that so?" Nah'dur's eyes perked and she straightened, finishing her mug of ytar. "Can you elaborate?"

"Certainly. Both for us and the human telepaths death is commonly described as a door. It is normally thought that door is one-way, but as you know with sufficient experience, this is not strictly the case. People can come back from the dead."

"Agreed. There is an afterlife, though there is no data on what it is. Those I have brought back remember the usual white lights, nothing more," Nah'dur shrugged. "There is also a Hell, which I am more concerned about, for personal reasons unrelated to myself."

"Does that keep you up at night, Surgeon-Commander?" Va'tor's voice softened. The girl was not quite twenty, a _kit,_ almost, and she had gotten the impression this subject was rarely far from her mind.

"No, nothing so crass," Nah'dur transfixed her with a stare. "That is dangerous territory, anyway. To put it simply, Va'tor, I am realistic. The dominant species of the multiverse is humans, and humans permit no allowance for circumstance. They are relentless, committed, sincere, and savage. I love them as much as they infuriate me. They can produce the likes of Zhen'var, as good a Dilgar as we, and Ka'var, a resolute mother in truth; they can produce the likes of Chapel and Brogan and Hauser, who set our people up to die. They can produce these Reavers, this abominable government, Nazis and idiots like the Federation galore, and even a creature like Abebech Imra. There was never going to be an alteration to the end game for Her. Circumstances don't matter. Just morals. Still, it bothers me that there is a Hell, even if it is an inevitability for Her. Perhaps it is the filial piety of a daughter and perhaps it is the irritation of a scientist with something she thinks it unlikely she can quantify. Either way, it is there. If I am stealing people from it, good. I cannot accomplish the one goal in regard to it I would really like to, but, if it has a Lord who lusts for peoples' souls, I have wounded him." She laughed. "Or they have returned from heaven, in which case I am saving fools."

Va'tor knew exactly what Nah'dur was talking about, knew exactly what she used so many circumlocutions even now. She smiled tightly. "I was going to compliment you on executing what many would call a miracle."

"Why? Four hours with a pulse blast through the heart? An hour floating in the void? I made these routine at A Bao a Qu. The elongation of this art will carry me to fourteen, fifteen hours, maybe more. I'm working on mapping degraded brain structure to duplicate with cybernetics so I can succeed in recovery of more comprehensively decayed brains. _That_ is a challenge. Is it really so disconcerting, to know that I can bring the dead back?"

"No," Va'tor answered after a moment. "No. It was just disconcerting for some. When there are casualties in battle, I will warn them to be ready."

"Thank you. I dislike, immensely, causing discomfort to any Mha'dorn. But I can hardly stop."

"You can hardly stop," Va'tor agreed. "Do you fear a Hell yourself?"

"Hmm, no. Mother-Shai's Dharma is servicable enough. I have not done anything that would cause me regret before the Gods. Though I will have something to regret if I don't get the chance to bring back those Reavers, Va'tor. Since you're here, will you do it?"

"The first principle of command is not to inflict on your subordinates what you would not do yourself, the humans tell me," Va'tor replied levelly. "Yes, I'll be the one to do the work."

"Excellent." Nah'dur jumped up. "Let get my scrubs on and call my surgical team. It's time to go to war with some true _morons,_ since nobody else would make this ridiculous thing, this _Pax_! Gods, Va'tor, _they're the same species as the Nazi_! I love it! I hate it! It's glorious!"

* * *

Kalista was stirring. Hooded, cuffed, shackled, bound, but on a camp mattress from the marines, in what had been the Captain's Sea Cabin of the _Francesco de Trier._ The door opened, and she could hear it. She twisted her head to focus on the individual entering, to see, despite the hood, if she could match them.

It was Abebech. _Good girl, brave and loyal._ They were pitted against each other for a brief moment, and then Abebech was inside of her again, systematically. Their minds _meeting._ But this time, in a jumble of emotions, passions and memories, and Kalista could see, could _see,_ Abebech, glasses and all, in a white uniform of black trim with gold adornment.

A massive tactical globe surrounded them, and in it, ships were burning and dying. Ships of the Reich. Ahead of them, a star was expanding, guttering, dimming as it disappeared and re-appeared through a steadily less real pulse of separating fractals of space-time. In their minds, it seemed that reality itself screamed and howled, buffeting the cohesion of their very consciousness, the perception of the universe itself. In the hearts of the telepaths around her, controlling their ship by thought, the sight and the feeling alike were putting terror into the hearts, into those hearts who were linked to the minds of the officers who ruled, in fear and pride, trillions of mutes. Abebech, though, showed none of it. She merely raised her hand and manipulated the plot through psionic feedback, as steady as Constantine IX at the Mesoteichion. A vaguely Hispanic man appeared in a sector of it and with a gesture his image expanded to overlay the tactical globe, the holo capturing the sweat beading from his face.

"Admiral Jimenez, the Fourth of Seventeenth shall advance three AUs and pivot forty degrees to port to lay covering fires…."

The vision snapped away as soon as it had come. Abebech ripped the mask off of Kalista's face and stared deep into her eyes. The woman was abruptly confronted with a hideous presence, a power, an afterburn of something immeasurably dark and evil. It crashed over her like a wave, pounded and roared, until Kalista felt like she was drowning in it.

Then the wave passed, and only Kalista remained, alone in a tunnel. She followed it, confused, heart pounding, carefully scrambling over broken rock, scoured smooth by the power of the water.

She turned a corner, and _there she was,_ in the lab, the 'Academy', being modified by the Government of the Union, pitilessly drilled and indoctrinated. Terrified and angry all at once, she continued to advance, looking at herself. But the other-Kalista, the young-Kalista, didn't notice, the doctors, the guards, didn't notice.

She reached the chair and lunged for herself, to unbuckle herself from the restraints. As she did, the mind's eye curled in on itself. The younger woman in the chair was suddenly a slight Asian woman of browner skin, wearing the uniform of the Terran Reich. Dark eyes met dark eyes, and there was a sudden sense of ineffable kinship.

Kalista knew she was looking at the mother she had never had. The restraints would not come off, and she screamed in rage, yanking at them. " _Mother_!"

The woman strained at the restraints, and her voice, when it spoke, was high and sharp and furious. "I am offended for my great country," she said, "that my daughter is a slave, and all I have fought for is undone."

Kalista woke up again, and this time, screaming.

Abebech was systematically removing her restraints.

Kalista's resistance guttered as she curled into a ball on the thin mattress, tears falling uncontrolled from her eyes as all the memories flooded together in a mad jumble. "Why… Why are you releasing me?"

"Because Leftenant Xin's daughter is not a slave, and generally, an Esper is not a slave," Abebech answered simply. "Welcome to the crew of your mother's ship, Midshipwoman Xin. Revenge, plainly put, is one of the finer pleasures of life. Your mother was one of the engineering officers, I might add."

"So this _was_ your ship!?" Kalista shouted as Abebech turned and began to leave the cabin, remembering her words just before she had been stabbed.

"Oh, the _de Trier_ was in the Third of Fifteenth," Abebech replied with a laugh.

Rubbing her wrists, Kalista leapt to her feet and followed her.

* * *

"They've been gone a long while," Zoe remarked, referring to Abebech and River and Simon. "So, what's the plan, Sir?"

Mal shook his head wryly. Watching the preparations to fight the _de Trier_ had been almost dizzying, and against a disciplined and organised military force he felt out of place. "War's back on," he answered, finally.

"Is _that_ so?" Jayne almost growled it out. "I didn't sign up to fight in your damn war, Cap'm. I'm a fighter, not a soldier, not a Browncoat. I do jobs and I get the hell out."

"Including jobs like sellin' me out, Jayne?" Mal swung his legs down and rose from where he was sitting, leaning over the bigger man, but far more intimidating. "It was your damnfool decision to _come back_ after leavin', too, which without the _Huáscar_ would have been the end of all of us. You are lucky to be welcomed back as part of this crew and don't start gettin' ideas about double-crossin' me again or cuttin' out whenever an opportunity presents itself."

" _Serenity_ ain't a warship," Jayne answered. "You think these folks with whatever they're doin' are gonna stick around? They'll leave us in the lurch and we'll find ourselves right back in Serenity Valley, 'cept this time I'll be stuck with ya there, probably wind up dead."

"We've got more than _Serenity._ "

"That girl I helped find you? Maybe some rustbuckets?" Jayne laughed. "Cap'm, fightin' just don't make no sense for me. I mean, the _Huáscar_ might just lose right now."

"And you think we can get away from fifty-six Alliance ships comin' down on us if we cut and run right now, Jayne, is that it?"

"That just means we waited too long already. Shoulda got goin' a while ago."

"Well, we're not goin' anywhere, Jayne," Mal leaned down, eyes narrowing. "We're gonna fight. Because if we don't, after this, there is no escape. They will hunt us down through the entire 'Verse to make sure the story of this ship and what happened here never get loose. Even if Captain Zhen'var leaves They Will Not Rest, you hear me?"

Jayne shook his head and tried to look away.

"You want to end up in an Alliance camp, Jayne? They will put you there, even if they promise you money first."

"I just don't know what the hell we're fightin' for! What is it, Mal? What are we fightin' for? 'Cuz with this ship that River's got the codes or whatever for, it sounds like we're fightin' for her. You've heard the star-folk talk about where it's from, it's from the damned _Terran Reich,_ some kinda Empire. Empire of Telepaths, people like River, lordin' over us regular folk, probably lookin' in our minds whenever they feel like it just like River already does. She gonna make herself Queen of Londinium, Mal, is that it? Is that what's gonna happen? Is that what we're fightin' for!?"

"We've been with River and Simon for almost two years now, Jayne, and I ain't seen any sign of that in them. She's a good girl and she's healing by the day. If she has the power in her hands to take down the Alliance, when we don't have any choice no more but to try, then I say we use it."

"And you think that power isn't gonna corrupt just like it has for the Alliance? You think she won't want to use it for whatever the hell she wants inside of her crazy head?"

"I think she's got a family, Jayne, and that's what'll make the difference." Mal turned away. "And I think the Alliance, plain and simple, deserves to go down. I did when I fought before," he forestalled Jayne with a hand, "and I lost that, and I accepted they were our Government now. But since they have gotten worse. They let the power over the whole Verse go straight to their heads and they are gonna keep running with it until they destroy us all or are brought down. Now I would sooner give River a chance with this ship than all the bureaucrats in Londinium. She has done good things, and I ain't seen one yet out of 'em."

"Ai'right, we're in this," Jayne was shaking his head and rubbed the barrel of his rifle. "Ai'right. But what're we gonna do?"

Mal hear the footsteps first and turned to face them. "'Reckon we're about to find out."

River arrived, wearing a uniform of white with black trim and gold fittings. Beyond the Waffenrock, it extended to a knee-length white skirt with broad black pinstripes and black boots and stockings. Mal started.

Abebech was by her side, Simon following along. "Just in case, I resolved we could not say she was an unlawful combatant," Abebech smiled thinly.

"It's very pretty that it's got a skirt, isn't it?" River laughed, and twirled on one boot to let it flair. Even now she could be purely girlish.

Mal and Zoe looked at each other sharply. "Well, Sir," Zoe shook her head, "she looks a damn sight better than a purple-belly. It's got some class."

"River's very taken by it right now," Simon explained with a wry shake of his head and a grin. "I would have never expected to see her in a military uniform in my entire life, but it grows on you a little."

"Well, it won't matter to the Alliance, but I understand the principle of it," Mal answered, shaking his head. "What's the plan, Commander Imra?"

"Get Kaylee and Emma from the ship and form a blocking detachment to guard access to the main bridge deck, just in case," Abebech replied. "Their objective is certainly to board us, but we are preparing a surprise for them, and Bea's Resistance people are crewing up the prizes."

"Ain't no place for an infant in a blocking detachment. Or Kaylee, really."

"There's no good place at all for them," Abebech replied, "but they can stay with Simon at one of the emergency medical stations we'll establish inside the bridge block. If the enemy gets past you… Well, the armoured keel of a _Vengeur_ will be the safest place in this fight, I promise."

Zoe smiled thinly. "You're likely right about that. Let's do it, Sir."

"Well, she's the mother. Let's do it." Mal smiled and tipped a lazy salute. "Not much longer than that."

"No, but so much the better," Abebech shrugged. "I tire of waiting."

* * *

"Warning squadron, this is PriFly Actual. Commence launch sequence." Stasia took a long guzzle from her coffee, and then added, softly, "Yan tután, aagáa yéi kgwatee." Word of what Elia and Arterus were up to had gotten around.

"..What was that, PriFly? Over."

"Have Faith, and It Shall Be," Stasia smiled grimly. "Launch on discretion, Warning Squadron."

"Confirmed, PriFly, launching by element. Over."

Stasia watched the runabouts accelerating out of the main hangar. One after another, the twelve of them went spaceborne. Around them, the four earliest of the Resistance ships, converted freighters, had already arrived or were arriving. Their targets were the rest.

But most of all aboard them were two officers that Stasia deeply respected, and many pilots and other volunteers, going into a mission that most rational people would consider insane. She wasn't at all pleased about that, but there was nothing to do, but whisper a battle-prayer and wait.

The runabouts ducked behind the _de Trier_ and formed up. From a dead start they accelerated to match the relative velocities predicted for their final destinations, and then activated their warp drives, a moment later-none of the ships were far-deactivating them to slid in alongside. A few frantic messages were exchanged by tight-beam as the plan came together. Two went the shortest distance of all, and came in to meet the prizes.

After dropping off the volunteers, the last two runabouts went to collect more Resistance fighters. Then they leapt back to their muster point, masked by the _de Trier._ From that, they would be beamed aboard the prizes the _Huáscar_ had taken. Many might be Union veterans, but they still had only five hours to bring the ships to life. It would have to do.

* * *

Zhen'var stirred from her hammock, rigged over her old bed in the sea cabin of the _Huáscar,_ and a welcome addition that had been one of the positives about this mission, arriving just in time. Settling in at her desk after replicating herself a bowl of one of her dumpling specials, Laziz Lamb Handi, chai and a cup of raita to dip it. The more she read the reports, the more she frowned. _Abebech, what are you up to? You are being too clever, I think…_ Glancing to the chrono, the Dilgar woman audibly sighed as she brought up her omnitool. _'Commander Imra, I wish to discuss your intentions, if it is convenient before the action.'_

" _Captain, of course."_ An incoming visual on the small persocomp screen resolved itself into the bridge of the _Francesco de Trier,_ Abebech sitting in the Captain's chair, and a faint image of someone in a white and black uniform behind. "Captain. What do you wish to discuss? I aim to defend the _de Trier_ to the utmost."

"I agree it is necessary, but… you have other aims, I discern from the reports I am receiving. I would know what they are, if you are amenable to informing me."

"The _de Trier_ is not our's to control, Captain. Not the Alliance's."

"Then whom is to control her, Abebech?" She slipped into informality, eyes shining with concern.

"The daughters of her crew. The Union Espers, Captain, and in River in particular. They were all intentionally gestated to have telepathy by secret modification behind the backs of their parents, using genetic samples from the mummies of deceased crewers of the _de Trier._ "

"I can… accept that." Her voice was soft, and her gaze distant. "It is fair, and just. Is that her behind you, in the strange uniform?"

"Yes." Abebech altered the field of vision to focus on River as well. "I helped set the autotailor to produce the uniform of a _Kapitan-de-Fregate_ of the Terran Reich."

River waved lazily, her focus on her screen.

A soft hiss escaped as Zhen'var breathed in sharply. "As much of a statement as a Dilgar uniform, I suppose. You have been busy, Abebech. She is to be _Captain_ Tam, then? And she has accepted, by her posture..."

"Kalista is with us, but she can't be trusted by the Resistance so quickly," River spoke up.

Abebech nodded. "She is the _only_ one. Captain, I am a historian by education. To an Esper in S0T5, that means I collect things as tangible to me as books to you. Thoughts. One set of them was the encrypted fleet command codes of the Imperial Space Forces, passed from generation to generation as a memetic legacy in those who did not recognise their significance. This ship will not _respond_ to any but a telepath bearing those codes in their mind, by design."

"So the ship responds and answers to her… I start to understand more clearly."

"And I." Abebech coughed gently. "So other than defence against boarding and some damage control teams, it's River and I fighting this ship in the upcoming battle. And we do have one main reactor, one main thruster block, and those eleven guns operational."

"I shall keep what detachments from the Huascar you may need aboard, to assist you in fighting her in the coming action."

"Thank you, Captain. We can discuss the next steps when we have won?"

"Agreed, Commander. Good fortune to yourself and Captain Tam."

"Thank you." Abebech dipped her head. "There needs to be no modifications to the plan we previously discussed. The _de Trier_ 's batteries can do their part."

"We shall be hard pressed, but the valiant way shall see us to the other side. See you there, Abebech."

"And you, Zhen'var." Abebech tipped a salute. "By your leave?"

"So granted. Thank you for explaining matters." Blanking the screen, Zhen'var looked at the overhead. _You are not yet telling me everything, Abebech…_

* * *

The thought was interrupted by the door. "Commander William Atreiad."

 _I am going to find a way to tear that speaker from the bulkhead…_ "Come ahead!"

The doors swished open to her ready room and then the sea cabin. Will stood at attention. "Captain. I'm sorry I couldn't explain why, but it wasn't even for a secured channel. Commander Fera'xero and I just recovered a Darglan interuniversal drive from the engineering spaces of the _de Trier._ "

" _Divine_ , of course it was not even for a secure channel!" She had barely bitten back an exclamation in Hindi, her eyes widely huge. "That calls into question much so-called history…"

"Don't I know it…" Will shook his head. "Fera'xero observed that the Reignfall, Swenya's Darkness War, the scouring of our home Earth, and the end of the Darglan interuniversal era-all happened three thousand years ago. I thought about it for a moment, realised he was right, of course, and it chills me to the bone, Captain. Gods, it does."

"It should. Some-day, I will be able to articulate what I _suspect_."

"That they're all related? That's what I'm staring in the face right now, Zhen'var. This _Vengeur_ -class dreadnought of the Terran Reich sitting in our faces with Darglan tech aboard."

"Not merely related… but we will speak of it, some-day soon, I hope. We have a battle looming upon us, presently."

"Understood." Will pursed his lips tautly for a moment. "Point of fact, the enemy will be close enough to commence action with the long-range guns in another forty-five minutes. We should be beginning our final preparations."

"Indeed, Commander. Call the crew to stations in another fifteen. This will be a hard fight, still, and we are not finished in this system even after that. We will prepare a physical report for Admiral Maran to be carried by courier as soon as we are finished here."

"Understood. Gods keep us, Captain."

* * *

"Sound General Quarters."

The alarms again filled the ship. This time, every system was functional, the ship had warp drive at Zhen'var's discretion, and they knew exactly what they were getting into. The trap was ready, and it was time to fight.

"Time, four minutes, thirty-two seconds, Captain," Lieutenant Orallian, the Gersallian Ops watch officer standing in for Elia, reported. "We are at Material Condition ZEBRA with all shields at full power, all weapons standing, by and full power available."

The plan was, in a certain way, simple. The _de Trier_ would slowly bring thrust up, creating an ionised drive tail. The _Huáscar_ would pull away, commencing long-range fires from ranges at which the enemy could not reply. The fighters and bombers had already been launched, and were standing by in the wreckage of the _de Trier_ to ambush the enemy when they closed with her to board. Bea's squadron was standing by in the drive tail with the fireships.

While the _Huáscar_ weakened the enemy, the fighters would harass and drive the enemy squadron toward the _de Trier._ Then the Resistance ships would lead the fireships into the mass. Staying under thrust, they would cut through and seek to escape. The shuttles hiding on the flanks of the _de Trier_ would get the crews of the fireships off. Including Elia Saumarez, Zhen'var's best friend.

Ahead the fleet loomed, fifty-six ships: _Longbow, Trebuchet_ cruisers, _Victoria_ corvettes, ELINT corvettes, and two utterly massive, ten-million-tonne _Crete_ -class carriers, as large as the _Huáscar_. With them, Firefox fighter-bombers, Warhammer interceptors, both by the hundreds, and hundreds of cutters and short-range enforcement vessels, armed with their EMP generating charges, and dozens of assault landers waiting to convey Marines to the _de Trier._

 _May the divine bless us with fortune…_ " _de Trier_ Actual, _Huáscar_ Actual. We are cleared and ready for action."

"Some of Fera'xero's scratch engineering teams are still hydraulically jacking blast doors closed, but we have more time before coming under attack, _Huáscar_ Actual" Abebech responded immediately. "I am preparing to bring up Main Thruster No.7." The first challenge would be seeing if it actually worked, regardless of whether or not it said it was nominal.

"May your sword hold to the last blow," Zhen'var offered from an old Dilgar benediction. " _Huáscar_ out."

The channel cut, and as the _Huáscar_ steadily pulled away, she watched, from what had once been an enormous cluster of thirty-two engine bells, deceptively primitive looking, at the back of the _de Trier,_ the multispectral image showing a flare as the gravimetrics kicked on and stabilised, able to redirect the thrust at will, and then a huge column of bright glowing blue ionised matter shot forth, and stabilised into a low glowing cyan, redirected slightly down and to the starboard to balance the thrust relative to the ship's centre of gravity.

"Great Goddess," Daria whispered. "She's really brought power up."

"Steady, guns. It _is_ a sight no-one has seen in three thousand years," Zhen'var acknowledged. "But we'll be in range in minutes."

"Aye-aye, Captain." Daria took one last glance at the cylindrical thrustship of a monster slowly increasing her acceleration toward eight gravities, and began targeting with long-range sensors of the incoming fleet.

"Aim for the big ones," Zhen'var said coolly. "I want to shake them."

"Going for the carriers first…" Daria selected one of the massive _Crete_ class ships. They weren't in range yet, but she could start refining her targeting picture… The _Huáscar_ turning to port and speed continuing to increase as their acceleration peaked past two hundred gravities. Having arrived in the local system, the pulse drives of the Union ships wouldn't help them again, and without those long distance but limited mass-cancelling drives, their accelerations were poor enough that there was no way they could keep up. Hells, the converted freighters in the Resistance force could barely keep themselves in the _de Trier_ 's drive tail as she limped her way up to eight gravities.

"They may not have enough information to realise that we're going to be ranging on them and think we're retreating," Will remarked through the intercom as he watched the enemy fleet continue to fail to manoeuvre or otherwise respond to their actions.

"Perhaps, but I do not want any additional surprises. Disabuse them of the notion once you have the range."

Will interpreted that literally, as Zhen'var's command style dictated. "Daria, you are fire free."

"Fire free," she repeated, the Dorei woman studying sharply the tactical displays as they counted down the remaining range.

The counter ticked over and the indicators went green. Daria grabbed the trigger and fired a massive rippling broadside of forty solar torpedoes as the main PPCs opened fire on the starboard beam. They lanced across the stars to a target that would be perfectly invisible to the naked eye, now under the guidance of FTL sensors again with the jamming field completely gone.

The pinpoints of lights the flashes represented meant something else entirely on the tactical display, and to the approaching Union Government Fleet. It was a credit to their alert and capable sensor operators that they turned their autocannon on the incoming torpedoes. Even at high c-fractional velocities, they had just enough warning to turn the anti-missile defences on them.

Against the heavy PPCs there was no protection at all. The armour of the carrier was thick, but the immense power of the energy weapons scoured its length like the hand of a god. The carrier staggered, and turned away. As it did, three torpedoes slipped through the defence-which was superb, to take out thirty-seven-and exploded down her side in flashes of fury greater than even an atomic bomb blast of the heaviest type carried by their missiles. The ship lurched and went hard to port, a brave _Trebuchet_ frantically interposing itself.

"One of the carriers has hauled out of formation, Captain," Orallian called out.

"They're massively attriting our torpedoes at this range, they have very good point defence, I'm restricting fire to PPCs only," Daria added, "otherwise we'll run out without much to show for it."

The fleet reacted immediately. They started to launch their assault landers early, especially those on the second _Crete._ The first carrier, in fact, began to launch from her port bays despite the immense internal damage she had suffered. This fight wasn't going to be so easy. Blossoming across the tactical displays, the Union fleet began to launch their maximal-range missiles in a salvo whose numbers steadily ticked toward a thousand. They were _not_ completely helpless, and they weren't about to let the distant enemy wound them without reply.

But at this range the _Huáscar_ had plenty of options to attrite the salvo. "They're launching, Captain. Full strength missile wave to overwhelm us, based on current course with a reasonable prediction cone," the stocky Gersallian man quickly confirmed, highlighting the tactical display on the screen in sections and expanding them to provide the Captain the information she needed.

"A micro-jump to move clear, or stand and give them fire with our energy weapons, do you think?" The salvo was big enough to where the effort to jump would have been strongly considered in EarthForce. "Can the missiles be re-targeted onto our other ships if we make the jump?"

"..." Orallian frantically worked the computations through the massive computers of the _Huáscar._ "Not if we wait another two minutes. We won't be in danger from the lead part of the wave for another three minutes, fifteen seconds. They can be brought back around on the _de Trier_ at that point but they would be flying dead on ballistic trajectories, so any manoeuvring on the _de Trier_ 's part at all would shake them."

That was enough for Zhen'var's crew to start getting ready. "Laying in a course at warp. Want me to come in behind them at weapons range, Captain?" Violeta hastily completed the computations. "Engineering, stand by for Warp Five."

"Warp five at your discretion, helm," Anna confirmed even as Violeta waited for Zhen'var's decision.

"Engage in two-minutes, then. Alert _de Trier_ of our intentions. Bring us in behind them at maximum effective weapons range."

Tor'jar worked the comms. " _de Trier_ Actual confirms, Captain."

Violeta watched the timer zero out and activated the warp drives. For a moment they were in a blur of motion, and then they lunged out of position. It was worse than that for the Government fleet, which due to its sublight sensors didn't realise they had altered positions initially, and then saw _two_ of them.

Daria opened fire, targeting the second carrier she had already been hammering. The full forward batteries ripped into it and tore through it. A massive string of secondary detonations tore through the engine block and darkened it, the thrusters guttering out in the night as additional detonations rippled down the flanks of the immense ship. Now it was ironically the _first_ carrier that had initially hauled out that was still limping toward contact with the _de Trier._

"The missiles haven't been redirected. They want the _de Trier_ intact, Captain," Orallian reported.

Zhen'var growled softly. "They are not fools, our enemy keeps their eyes on the correct objective. Keep up our fire, attrit them as heavily as we can before our wing must come to action."

"Coming about to starboard to keep us within the engagement plan," Violeta noted. Daria acknowledged and adjusted the firing pattern to account for it. The _Huáscar_ slowly turned back in on herself, to keep the enemy from being tempted to follow her to the far side of the _de Trier._

The enemy squadron was now matching velocity and approaching the ship's great flanks, even as the long-range PPC fire picked off the first cruiser to be claimed in the action, the Government fleet powerless to reply. This was battle, in all of its grim majesty. For the moment they reaped like Gods, but a minute later their friends and comrades would be in desperate straits. The engines strained up to full power, and the _Huáscar_ 's port batteries thrummed in her deck. "The White", as her distant ancestress had been called in the War of the Pacific, turned back to close the range.

It was all mathematical now, the fire they could put out met by the Government ships' ability to absorb it, and the Captain's face was a blank mask as their fire lanced out. _El'sau, please, come through this_ ** _alive_** _, I ask no more than that of the universe._

* * *

Artesia watched the approaching fleet match velocity and acceleration with the _de Trier_ from her position at standby with her squadron, nestled by the docking tractors close up against the hull of the great ship, in amongst the ribs and shattered plates. It was intimidating simply to see the metres and metres of melted and shattered armour plates. Sometimes, now under thrust, some part that was loose and had not been dislodged in thousands of years of drifting brushed past them and tumbled out into a debris trail behind them, a haunting simulcra of how she must have looked first arriving in the system.

IR seekers on her missiles cheerfully began to chime as they locked onto a brace of Short Range Enforcement Vessels, and her micro-torpedo tube began to track a group of assault transports coming in. Still they waited. The Government fleet was de-accelerating above them, finally meeting zero-zero relative the _de Trier._

She could see them, now holding position. There were still more than fifty ships, but even as they assumed their positions, turning into a half-globe formation to defend against the _Huáscar_ facing out like a defensive hedgehog, another of the _Longbow_ type cruisers was bracketed by heavy PPC salvoes. Pummeled over the course of a minute with the beams lancing in from the distant _Huáscar,_ a pinpoint of starlight at long range, the cruiser began to come to pieces, fuel stores exploding around the engines in a furious white fusion detonation that blasted the after hull from the central pylon, sparking as plating went flying in a dozen directions.

If their troops retook the _de Trier,_ it would be worth it for them. Mission Complete, regardless of the casualties.

Final target assignments popped up and Artesia grinned. Suddenly, comms silence was broken. "All squadrons," Lar'shan's voice boomed over the comm, " _Commence the Attack! Rung-ho!_ "

Artesia deactivated her docking tractor, manoeuvring thrusters spitting fire as she brought her nose up. "Epsilon wing, form on me! Full ahead!" She rammed the throttles back, and at hundreds of gravities, the Mongoose climbed like a rocket on takeoff from the hull of the _de Trier._

The computer whined with the familiar indicator of tone lock, and she salvoed her anti-fighter missiles on fire-and-forget, then came around and shifted through armament. After she confirmed it was the micro-torpedoes for the transports, she opened fire as her fighter tore through them, pivoting the nose down and briefly cutting thrust to chew through yet another with her main pulse cannon before bucking the nose back around. A line of three enforcers were burning and exploding, and more were flaring up around them, the energies of the Alliance missiles far greater than anything they had been designed to face; it was one shot, one kill.

A squadron of Warhammers descended on her, and she coiled around another group of incoming transports. "Epsies, stay on the transports! I'll keep the fighters off of you!" She flicked the switch to outboard and made her second kill with guns, and the first fighter, as she skidded across their course after ducking through their own transports.

And then Abebech's voice cut the night. "All ships, this is _de Trier_ Actual. Stay away from those cruisers! We are _fire free_!"

* * *

There were just the two of them on the bridge for command crew. Abebech didn't trust Kalista with the codes yet. She'd have to prove herself first. But Goodenough, Ca'elia, and Abdulmajid were there. They couldn't interface with the computers, but with River and Abebech setting up data-feeds for them, they could monitor the reams of information the computers were now providing and alert them to anything coming up, so they could focus on fighting.

With the sole operational main engine locked down to provide a constant eight gravities, massive banks of red and amber lights glowed around the bridge, indicating failed and critical systems. "Six hots and eight crits in the main weapons feed buses," Goodenough indicated.

"What about feed-buses eleven and fourteen?"

"Both nominal, Captain," Goodenough replied. The technical terms were familiar enough that the crash course in New Franconian and some help from the omnitool were mostly enough.

"That will do." _River, get on it._

 _Routing mains through feed-buses eleven and fourteen,_ she answered. _All right. We have mains power to the operational batteries and cannon._

 _Frigate-Captain, port turbolasers, engage!_ "We are engaging," she repeated for the benefit of her mute officers.

Four turbolaser batteries erupted fire down the _de Trier_ 's port flank, with red bolts two hundred metres long flashing through the void. Each battery was a cluster of five cannon in an armoured housing, able to train and engage semi-independently but linked to a single power supply. After they fired, the heavy batteries took six seconds to recharge.

The battle had been shaped according to the plan that they were given with Zhen'var, because the port side was more intact than the starboard, and now Abebech had five of seven and two of four neutron cannon at her disposal to engage with. The turbolasers spake first, and when they did, a _Trebuchet-_ class cruiser simply _exploded._ At point-blank range, the searing power of the main batteries reached the main reactors and fused the fuel on the ship, detonating her in an enormous fusion reaction which reduced the hull to embers and a brilliant white flare across the night.

Now Abebech p'grabbed the Neutron Cannon controls through the interface and opened fire with them as well. The two green beams lanced through the night, targeting a Longbow each. They had plenty of power on a single charge to scour down the length of the hull of the ships. In the darkness of space around them, she could _feel_ through her powers, the chill of horror and terror spreading through the enemy fleet. If that fire kept up, they were dead by rights.

The beast within relished it. _Fear us! Fear us! As it was in ancient days!_

* * *

Elia had led her cruiser out of the drive tail the moment that Abebech had conveyed she was opening fire. Ahead of her, Bea's Resistance people thrusted hard with their squadron, straight toward the fleet that heavily outnumbered them. On the screen, past the rack which had once held skulls, she could see that the _de Trier_ really was in action. _Longbow_ -class ships were burning ruins along her flank, neutron beams having done the job, as horrifyingly perfect as they had been against Earth in the late war. One of them was cut in two, just as cleanly as if the Minbari had done it at the Line. But now it was her enemies and the oppressors of telepaths who did it. A savage thrill cut the anxiety in her heart, strapped in as the cruiser and its skeleton crew burned hard on a final mission.

"Steady as she goes." Ahead of them the eight Resistance ships-two _Trebuchet_ -class cruisers and a _Victoria_ -class corvette captured from the Government, plus five armed freighters-blasted into the heart of the enemy formation, salvoing their missiles. The two ships she was leading, one _Longbow_ planetary assault model sold out to civilian service and captured by Reavers and one armed freighter, looked merely like the rearguard.

Behind her were sixty-eight solar torpedoes.

She activated the ship to ship lasercom. "Leftenant tr'Rllaillieu, take the port group. They're cleaving and concentrating to bear their batteries against the wedge."

"Aye, Ma'am. Arm the torpedoes?"

"At discretion," Elia answered. It was only a small level of safety. "At discretion." She leaned into her restraints and watched a wave of plasma pulse and autocannon fire converge on the squadron lead.

The nature of the weapons and sensors used by the Union dictated that the engagement ranges were much closer than Zhen'var ever tried for with the _Huáscar_ in normal drill. It was the one thing which made the plan viable.

"The Lord Shall Prosper Us This Day," Elia whispered as she watched one of the _Trebuchet_ -class cruisers the Resistance fighters were crewing be chewed up from stem to stern by heavy fire of a concentration of the Government ships. Falling out of formation, her systems were killed by EMP bombs.

Elia tapped her omnitool. "Shuttle force, Leather; get the crew off the _Achille,_ quickly now!"

"Leather, we are standing by to-"

"That's an order, get them clear." She turned to Lieutenant Ni'vur "Arm the torpedoes!"

"Helm, steer for that concentration of ships." She patted the armrest of her acceleration couch and reached up, poised for a moment as she watched the final fate of the cruiser, torn apart by fire from a dozen ships until she erupted in a final intense gout of flame.

Now those dozen ships were starting to turn toward _her._ "Lock the helm!"

"Helm locked, Ma'am!"

"Thirty second timer."

"Thirty seconds on your mark, Commander," Ni'vur answered.

"Mark." Elia tapped her omnitool. "Shuttle force; Leather. Carry us off!"

 _Static._


	33. Episode 6 Act 6

**Act 6**

"Shuttle force, now would be a good time," Elia continued, pitching her voice to be chipper despite the lack of response.

"Twenty seconds, Commander!"

The Government ships opened fire. "Helm…" Elia trailed off, remembering she had already ordered it locked down. The timer wouldn't matter a whit if the torpedoes were energy fused by a good salvo punching through the old, deranged armour of the damaged Reaver ship.

Then a blazing flurry of green lances seared at the edge of her retina, exploding outward from the side of the _de Trier._ The energy bolts connected with their targets, two of the enemy cruisers burning, smashed open…. Rent from stem to stern. Abebech had grown confident enough to split her fire with two batteries laid on each ship. Venting debris, burning atmosphere and seared bodies, the two cruisers tumbled away, hopelessly crippled.

"Ten seconds," Ni'vur prepared a countdown. "Ni…"

"Oh don't bother with that load of rot, Combat Master," Elia shook her head. "It'll be fine."

Another enemy squadron converged, guns tracking. _Good, come on, get closer, if I'm going to die ten of you isn't enough you sorry bastards._ " _Shuttle force..?"_ She asked again.

" _Beaming, Commander!_ "

"Might be a bit la-." Mercifully, the word was cut off by the feel of the Darglan type transporters yanking her away from the hulk. She found herself flashing back into existence on the transporter pad of one of the cargo shuttles holding itself against the hull of the _de Trier._ Her crew would be spread around several others because of their small size, but Ni'vur was with her.

Elia looked to the Dilgar Lieutenant and smiled. "See, look what I told you. No need for that bloody countdown."

"Err, certainly, Commander," he answered, shaking himself. "Did we succeed?"

"I'm not sure the sensors of a shuttle masked in a dreadnought can tell us, but we certainly did ride it down their throats," Elia answered, stepping over to the replicator in the back of the shuttle. "Thanks for the save!" She called to the pilot, before replicating herself a cuppa. "...Fancy any _ytar_ , Leftenant? I shouldn't want to leave you out." She was quite worried about Arterus, actually, but as long as there were subordinates around felt nothing else would do.

"Commander Saumarez," the pilot turned around. "We're going to beam you with the rest of your crews to the _de Trier_ in case the shuttles come under attack. No need to risk you."

"Thank you, Leftenant." A pause. "If I may, do we know if Leftenant tr'Rllaillieu's group got off as well?"

"They did, Commander."

"...See, I told you, Ni'vur, it all worked out perfectly fine…" She stepped back up onto the transporter pad and handed him his _ytar_ just before they both again disappeared in a flash of white.

* * *

A large flare of white again dissipated into dust before them as a _Victoria_ -class corvette was incinerated by the awesome power of the intact turbolaser batteries converging on it. _Good work, keep clearing the way for Elia._

 _Of course, silly, that's more important than going for the big ones._ River flashed her a brief grin before turning back to her readouts.

"Captain, power surge on the …" Goodenough's words were cut off by the tremendous detonation.

The lead fire-ship detonated, and moments later, the second. Immense white flashes as terrible, but worse still, than those inflicted by the batteries of the _Francesco de Trier_ tore into the heart of the fleet, obscuring for a moment the flaring energy and anger of a neutron beam tracking across the battlefield. The beam found purchase nonetheless, and another corvette reeled, tumbling off course with a huge gash of flickering, melted metal across its flank.

It paled as nothing before the terrific damage of the conflagration. The spreading explosions had easily wrecked or damaged a dozen Government ships outright, vapourised some. In the guttering sparks of cooling metal debris across the battlefield, there were also the tumbling wrecks of vessels further out, driven and dashed against each other as pieces of flotsam battered in the surf.

Abebech folded her gloved hands. The thought was too intense to hide, the sentiment River could clear p'hear, hoping that Elia had survived. As the ships tumbled, spewing atmosphere and debris and bodies, twenty wrecks in the void, the shattered heart of a great fleet, it was all they could do.

* * *

Artesia snapped another nose pivot back toward an incoming squadron of Warhammers. Tone lock squealing in her helmet, she raked across one, then another, taking both _en passant_ as the groups tore across each other's courses.

The battle was not going well, simply because of how badly outnumbered they were by the enemy fighters. Even as she killed another two, they had started the engagement with odds long against them. One hundred fighters and bombers and twelve runabouts were going up against more than eight hundred fighters and an equal number of enforcers and cutters. All the technology in the Multiverse hardly mattered at sixteen to one!

She snapped into another violent nose-pivot, but this time laid on maximum thrust to avoid a brace of enforcers coming in close. Once clear of the risk of a collision, she brought the nose up again and fired across the belly of one, the pulse phasers ripping weapons mounts apart and dishing in the thin hull. Air fled in a trail, turning to ice as it did.

"All squadrons, pull back! Pull back!" Lar'shan's voice echoed across the main channels.

Artesia and the other pilots knew what it meant, and she snapped her nose away from the globe of capital ships and again slammed the throttles to full. A moment later, she flicked shields double-rear as her periphreal vision exploded with white. The Mongoose violently bucked in her hands as Warhammers behind and around her and several enforcers and cutters were also torn to pieces, captured in the wave and buffeted until they shattered and their fuel was detonated by the energy of the blast.

"All squadrons," Lar'shan was speaking again a minute later. "Form up off the port bow of the _de Trier,_ we need to take advantage of their disorder from the blasts to dress ranks! Engage assault landers only on opportunity while concentrating!"

Artesia thumbed through channels to try and raise her squadron lead, but couldn't get any response. "Epsilon flight, follow me forward," she ordered, and there were only three of them now, not four. She cut down toward the surface of the _de Trier,_ dodging around the massive turbolaser batteries lest they fire, and selected one of the bays. Most of the assault landers that hadn't been destroyed before had already landed.

She made sure the laggards paid for it. Her pulse phasers spoke again, and again, and claimed two more of the transports on her run to the concentration point, the work becoming as sharp and precise, and unfussy, as an old woman strangling a chicken in the rural Catalan of her girlhood. Behind her, the explosions faded like the dying of a star.

* * *

On the _de Trier_ 's bridge, the tactical picture updated again. Now it showed the cripples continuing to fall behind as they lost power, the rest of the Government fleet still in wanton disorder. Three-fourths of their strength was gone, annihilated, between the _Huáscar,_ the torpedoes, and the fireships. These were the kinds of casualties which destroyed any military unit, no matter how strong or brave.

Once, this ship had fought in a battle just as hopeless as the one she now inflicted. Again River targeted and fired the turbolasers, blowing a _Longbow_ in two with a violent shattering of hull, gouts of plasma driving the two halves of the ship away from each other. But the enemy did not surrender.

Abebech knew why. They were counting on the troops they had landed to take the _de Trier._ They would remain focused on their mission until the very bloody end. The promise of victory could yet make troops endure a terrific pounding. She knew it. She had led troops in doing the same before.

And as long as she and River were tied to the command consoles of the _de Trier,_ the threat was real. They could not fight the ship and confront the boarders at the same time.

"Ray-ban, this is Leather."

Abebech sank slowly back in the command chair, to an extent that she had not realised her tension. "I see, Commander, that Fortune yet favours the bold. Welcome back to the living."

"Well, it was a nearer thing than I should have liked, but both crews were recovered. I'm here with Leftenant tr'Rllaillieu and, Commander, the enemy is pushing toward your position aggressively. Colonel Fei'nur's marines are reporting telepathic assistance."

 _Other Operatives. Other sisters,_ River paled, where first her face had brightened in relief that Elia had survived.

 _Doubtlessly._ "Commander, is Midshipwoman Xin there?"

"She is," Elia answered. "You want us to go forward?"

"Please. I believe she understands the plan. At _all costs,_ we want defections, not a gunbattle."

"Don't worry, Commander."

"I will trust in the usual reputation of Psi-Corps, Commander. See if you cannot link up to Colonel Fei'nur, but whatever happens, keep them from reaching the bridge." She switched to the space comm. "Ray-ban to _Huáscar_ Actual. The teams have been recovered, I repeat, the teams have been recovered. Leather and Feanor in the lot. _Huáscar_ Actual, we have the better part of a regiment pressing as hard as it can with telepathic support for the _de Trier_ 's bridge section. Please, we must end the naval battle as quickly as possible. The enemy is broken, they just don't know it yet!"

On the _Huáscar_ 's bridge, Daria could _sense_ the relief in Zhen'var's heart. She also realised that the challenge was her's. Elia was alive, but her responsibilities in battle had usually included management of the tactical picture for Zhen'var. Daria had been more of a gunnery officer than a true tactical officer.

She had to pick that role up now. "Captain," the Dorei woman said, carrying her voice to a pitch. "BLUF: The enemy fleet is hors d'combat and is now a distraction; the threat are the enforcers and the cutters."

"Go on, Leftenant," Zhen'var said simply.

Daria kept the PPCs firing on pre-planned barrages even as she spoke. "Captain, the enforcers and cutters are massing with the remaining fighters to attack our own wing, and they still have a considerable supply of EMP bombs. They probably held off using them on the _de Trier_ worked about leaving her out of control, but they might employ them now. If we don't prioritise them, Captain, they're going to massacre our fighters and keep us tied down for long enough that their boarding parties can still win the battle."

"Can you target them effectively?"

"I'll need to get in closer."

"They'll attack us with EMP charges if you do, Leftenant." Zhen'var's claws scoured at the granite.

"Charges have no velocity, we have greater acceleration than any of them, Captain. We'll launch slashing attacks. We can stand off far enough to guarantee they can't put them in our course."

"Leftenant Arterria?" Zhen'var's cat-eyes sharpened. "Can you do it? Maximum acceleration, maximum de-acceleration, forward, aftwards relative the _de Trier,_ again and again until we master them?"

Violeta turned back and her voice reflected true confidence. "I'll make her dance, Captain."

"Then warp us into position for the first run!" She tapped her comm. " _de Trier_ Actual, _Huáscar_ Actual. We are coming in. Stand by to hold fire."

"Preparing to hold turbolaser fire," Abebech answered. "We will shift neutron cannon against the cutters, we can range on them."

"Acknowledged. Make it happen, _de Trier._ " A pause. "Helm, execute."

Violeta tapped a single control to execute the warp manoeuvre she had laid in, at a leisurely Warp 2. It was still sufficient to put them right on top of the battlefield.

"Camel, this is White," Zhen'var signaled. "Form on us, we are making high speed passes. Keep the cutters off."

They appeared, and Daria's quick blue hands worked the firing controls, ears flexing. A moment later the medium and light batteries opened fire in earnest. They ripped through the ranks of cutters and gunboats. Against the medium batteries, none of the cutters and enforcers were strong enough to survive even a single hit, and the light batteries were intended as anti-missile units and could track them through any evasive manoeuvre as it chewed them up piece by piece. Twenty of the craft, too large to be good fighters and too small to be as resilient as capital ships, were destroyed in the first five seconds.

They had the numbers on their side, and they had the weapon which had proved most effective against the _Huáscar_ so far, EMP charges. But as they accelerated into attack positions, the great cruiser was moving _faster._ They knew their plan, they knew themselves, and they knew their enemy.

The _Huáscar_ roared past them at maximum acceleration, easily pushing past them before they could catch up to close the range and use the EMP charges. As she did her medium and light PPCs spat fire again and again and again. Behind the mass of the cutters and enforcers, the _de Trier_ was firing too, two Neutron cannon beams sweeping the battlefield, catching the small craft and destroying them in puffs of fire and air, sparks of molten metal drifting into space and cooling as tumbling pieces remained.

Lar'shan formed his fighters up to follow the _Huáscar,_ staying on the outside and covering her. It was like a bullfight; as the _Huáscar_ cleared the enemy, she de-accelerated and then spun about to accelerate again in the opposite direction. This time, her starboard batteries spoke, the fighters shifted to the opposite side and didn't even engage.

The commander of the Government forces, the Captain of the surviving _Crete_ which had pulled well back from the action, could just watch in despair as his small craft were systematically annihilated without the ability to engage the enemy. The _Huáscar_ twisted like a fighter at the end of her runs, spinning back and standing on her beam ends through the sharp turn, just for Violeta to bring her impulsors to full power again, and again. Maximum thrust to the redline in acceleration for three minutes, de-acceleration for three minutes, and she kept varying the angle so that the enemy couldn't predict their course and put themselves in a position for ambush.

It was a _massacre,_ and to combat the demoralisation of the Government crews standing in place to buy time for their Marine comrades, they had only the thin hope that they would succeed, and take the _de Trier._

* * *

Aboard the _de Trier,_ armour was waiting for Elia. She pulled herself into it before she realised it was not at all of Alliance make, and then shrugged. _Strength in metal doesn't so easily yield over time. Not this ship, anyway._

Kalista arrived, already dressed in it, with the appropriate uniform under it.

 _Midshipwoman Xin?_

 _Commander Saumarez. Commander Imra told me to report to your position._

 _Yes. This is certainly our last chance to stop a great effusion of blood among telepaths. I've already worked with Fei'nur; she's concentrated the Mha'dorn and we'll be going to join up with them,_ Elia replied. _Come on._ She gestured, clutching her pistol, and started forward.

The Marine detachment had eight Mha'dorn in it, and there was also Ensign Kel'dar who had been part of the group securing the engineering systems. Some of them were quite weak, but even the weakest telepaths could, when gestalted, use their talents against another, a reserve bank in a fight if nothing more.

Lieutenant Koi'sar was the ranking Mha'dorn besides Elia herself, and he came to attention to salute as they arrived at the concentration point. Lieutenant Gha'tir was right next to him; the others were rankers. _All right, where's the attack developing?_ Elia asked, letting it be clearly conveyed to all at once.

 _Sector 19, Deck 52,_ Koi'sar answered. _Blocking detachment by_ Serenity _'s crew. All other stop points have been driven back._

Elia pursed her lips. _Four people? Let's roll!_ She doubted they'd last a minute against what was coming down the pike for them.

* * *

Mal, Jayne, Zoe, and _Inara,_ armed with a rifle taking from one of the arms lockers on the _de Trier,_ a wickedly functional energy weapon. Mal had never expected to see his girlfriend packing a gun prepared to shoot purple-bellies, but there they all were.

Zoe, still shaky and looking a little sick, was settled in against a crew-served weapon, from the same armoury, with the other three covering her. There was a line of collapsed doors and metal access panels piled up to form a barricade.

Mal waited patiently. Isolated from the comms network they just had their own little battle to fight, not knowing the details of the general engagement. But they knew that beyond them was Simon, a field hospital, Kaylee, Emma Washburne - and River and Abebech and the command and control apparatus of the _de Trier._

There was a rustle down the corridor. Jayne leaned forward, but Mal quickly held up a finger, and he shushed down before he spoke. It was already growing louder; there was no need for a recon, there were troops coming down the pike. They were not friends.

Despite her condition, it was Zoe's gun that spoke first, and the better for it. Red lances of light shafted their way down the corridor leaving a blur across their vision. They virtually tore the bodies of the purple-bellies rounding the corner to pieces. A group of four were dropped in barely more than a second, to the screams of others behind.

"The hell is that thing?" Jayne stared incredulously for a moment.

"Effective," Zoe answered with a laconic bit of a smirk.

"An energy weapon, just like the big 'uns on this ship," Mal shook his head. "Inara?"

"Well, I'm going to wait for a target to find -"

"They're comin' on again!" Jayne shouted, and let loose with Vera. A man toppled in a well of blood, and then another.

Inara's gun spoke sharp red energy bolts, smaller versions of those from the tripod mounted gun. Mal joined in with his pistol.

Between burns gouged through armour and good hits that left bloody traces across wounded and dead soldiers felled to the deck, they had quickly stopped another push. But from the rustlings down the side corridors, it was clear that they were going to be flanked.

"Zoe, you hold the middle?"

"Gonna have to, Sir, can't move this thing."

"Inara, come on, we'll go left," Mal said, then. "Jayne, take the right."

"By myself? You tryin' to get me killed, Mal?"

"You know your gun and you've got an armour-piercer. Do it."

Jayne rolled out to the right, and the moment he did, there was a sharp crack of fire. He went to ground, bringing Vera up to return fire.

Inara and Mal managed to reach a set of doors the enemy hadn't. They settled in to wait against them, and Mal took aim as the first of the purple-bellies began their flanking manoeuvre. He was surprised with the precision and surety by which Inara dropped the first with a single shot from the energy rifle.

The second went down to his pistol. It seemed like another probe that would melt away, when suddenly, eight of them rushed all at once. They both opened fire into the densely packed mass, felling them as they tried to press forward.

But behind them came a girl with a shaven head. Mal grimaced, and raised his pistol to take the shot.

Just as he did, she exploded into a pirouetting run straight toward their position, ducking aside both bullets and blaster-shots. A blade glinted in her hand, earnest and ready to deal with him and Inara using cold steel. Again and again they fired, and never quite hit her.

 _FALL BACK,_ the command echoed in his brain like a hammer. Elia advanced from behind them with her pistol levelled, and pitted herself against the girl, buried deep in her precog.

She was not alone, but represented just one arm of the gestalt. In the mental world she projected, she matched the single sword of the girl with a dozen about the banner. Three lions attacked and tore at her mental shields, while a wave of blood swept over them from above, mimicking the colour and heraldry of the flag of her islands, the Duchy of Normandy. She picked wedges into the shields with the coordinated efforts of eleven minds.

The girl's shields cracked open. Her wail of desperation, mental, was strong enough that despite the lack of a direct line of sight, her sisters came running. Kalista and the Mha'dorn followed from their side, leaving Mal and Inara to follow that ineluctable compulsion back to reinforce Zoe against the regulars.

Exactly the way that Elia wanted it. She held her ground, and twirled a thought deep into the girl's mind. _Iris. Kalista is here._ She led her consciousness up and around, surrounded by a wall of the others. Their 'attack' was a full disclosure, nothing less, and nothing more. A _vision,_ of this ship, of ancestors they had not known, and of friends they did not know they had.

A vision, of the burning horror of a future where they were known only as enforcers. Where they were hated behind their backs, and feared to their faces. A future as sure as following their current course could be.

When the mass of Operatives ready for battle came around the corner, in aggregate they were stronger than the eleven they faced, all of them except Elia, who as a P9/10 outmatched them, and Kalista, their equal, were outmatched by the Operatives. The Dilgar around her were not strong. Kei'dar was a P6 as the strongest.

But they were _united._ They were gestalted. It was the telepathic equivalent of a testudo, pitted against a mass of wild and disorderly warriors.

Yet, for all of that, they might have forced it to be an _unpleasant_ ending. The one unitary objective of the telepaths was to end the situation without bloodshed. In the end, their opponents, able to see what the Government had done to them, able to see their own past, now simply had the ability to make a choice, fully informed, of their own free will.

The Standing seemed to stretch into infinity. As it did, Mal found himself covering Jayne as he slowly fell back, and Inara covered Zoe. The purple-bellies kept trying to push for their objective.

Right up, anyway, until River arrived, and sent a dozen purple-bellies spasming to the ground at once. The firing abruptly slackened, even as they could hear it in many other areas ahead, as Colonel Fei'nur's Marines executed counterattacks.

"Though you were supposed to be flyin' the ship," Mal remarked as he looked, even now more than a little shocked.

Behind River, Abebech padded quietly up. "Captain Zhen'var has settled the matter in the void. And we can receive positional updates even here."

"Please secure the prisoners," River offered. "We've got to... Take care of something."

It was with an almost uncomprehending nod that Mal watched them go toward the left.

And it was _River,_ not Abebech, that joined the gestalt. River, who greeted her sisters as a sister. River, who reached out and showed them how to not be alone, and form their own gestalt. All fifteen of them.

The brooding, dark presence at the end of the corridor was hauntingly familiar in some ways, even more than Elia and her Mha'dorn compatriots. The Consensus of the gestalt was clear.

The _Francesco de Trier_ was theirs. Freedom was theirs, as it had been for their foremothers so long ago. There was no fighting.

Quietly, as a group, they simply filed back toward the command spaces, unmolested by Abebech's troops, and with Abebech silently watching, at Elia's side. That is, until River passed her.

Very deliberately, River stopped, and turned to face her in her Terran Reich uniform, and came to attention and saluted. Abebech returned the salute as a matter of course, like her entire being was trained to do it.

"Surviving crew of the _Francesco de Trier_ fully present and accounted for, Admiral," River said, a mischievous wink in her eyes. Then she spun on heel and followed her sisters, almost traipsing with delight at Abebech's response, confirming what she had thought.

"...She's still a bit strange, isn't she?" Elia asked, shaking her head wryly and laughing.

Abebech just stood there, staring for a moment. Then she smiled, and nodded. "Good kid, though. I've certainly never served with finer."

* * *

Abebech Imra entered Zhen'var's Ready Room the next morning, fresh from the _de Trier._ Around them, there were now concentrated eleven Resistance ships that had survived the battle or arrived after it, plus four new prizes that had surrendered. Seven enemy vessels had escaped; forty-five had been destroyed. More than two hundred Cutters and Enforcement vessels had surrendered, as well as a hundred fighters, when it was clear that nobody was going to succor them before they ran out of fuel. Most of them had been moved with tractors into the hangers of the _de Trier_ for want of anywhere else to put them; the logistics of dealing with the surrendered craft were almost overwhelming.

Abebech was still wearing the bottom part of her Alliance uniform, but had an Earthreign uniform top on, from the sports bra and tunic to the jacket, though on that there were no insignia. She came to attention before Zhen'var nonetheless. "Captain, reporting as ordered. My apologies about my state of dress, however, the autotailor we made to work on the _de Trier_ wouldn't make anything else."

"It is acceptable in the circumstances, though perhaps you should have gone the rest of the way. The clash is… jarring, shall we say. You had promised me a fuller understanding and accounting, once the battle was over."

"That is correct, Captain. May I sit?" Abebech's face was politely neutral, eyes behind a different but no less opaque pair of sunglasses.

"Please, you are welcome to. Free use of the replicator as well, Commander. You may speak freely." Her eyes studied Abebech carefully; something had happened over on that ship, and she was unsure just what it had been.

Abebech stepped over to the replicator and produced a traditional Ethiopian cup of coffee before moving back to sit at Zhen'var's desk. "Captain, would it greatly surprise you to hear that I grapple badly with where to begin?"

"You commanded a battleship of the Earthreign in battle. I am less surprised by such a situation prevailing than you may expect, Abebech."

"I am a specialist in the history of the Earthreign." She paused. "I became a soldier because I was offended for my people, Captain."

"I… perhaps understand more of that than you may expect, thanks to my time with Commander Saumarez." Taking her mug of tea in hand, Zhen'var looked pensive. "As to how you are defining 'people', I must guess."

"No need to guess. The Alliance offers the only real hope for the future of Espers in the Fracture, torn between NEUROM and the sundry cults in opposition to it," Abebech replied. "It was there I found what allowed me to control the ship's systems. Thoughts, conserved for thousands of years. Encrypted thoughts. That was how security and authentication were handled aboard Earthreign ships."

There was a slow nod. "From the little and less I know of the Earthreign, that is most logical. Preserved as a memory, a curiosity of the past, as some telepathic traditions pass on imprinted memories? It must have been indescribable to actually be able to _use_ them."

"A family heirloom, if you will; a reminder that once your family was part of the ruling class of the Reich, that once… You were a King, a Lordly folk, not subject to the madness, the fanatic cults and the pogroms of the Fracture," Abebech answered, slowly and with great dignity. "I collected many of them."

"Captain, when we boarded the ship, my objective was to storm her command spaces and take control by coup de main. I had, over the years, worked out what the encrypted memories _were._ I had a plan. But I encountered Operative Kalista aboard, and allowed myself to be captured to gain access to the heart of the ship, rather than risk her death. You can see that it paid off, as I created a situation in which I engineered the defection of all the Esper Operatives. Being so savagely abused by the Government, they were uniquely vulnerable to the restoration of their memories and my own projections of the story of the Terran Reich. So, once I realised the situation, part of my objective was to make sure that I prevented the deaths of any of those children. Do my actions begin to make more sense?"

"Not only more sense, but I am in agreement with them. I expect that others may disagree, but _I_ am in concurrence with your actions so far. Expect another request for promotion on your behalf. I do. I much prefer defections rather than slaughter."

"Now, in giving the codes to River Tam, the second-eldest and most reliable, the _de Trier_ has a crew again and can serve as a base for the Resistance to fight back against the government. This allows us to withdraw from the system, Captain, having provided sufficient firepower to the Resistance to give them a reasonable chance - fifteen capital ships, hundreds of enforcers and cutters and fighters, and a mobile base which no fleet left in the outer systems can overmatch. The overthrow of the Union of Allied Planets can be obtained without risking exceeding our orders or turning the people of the 'Verse against the Resistance and the Outer Planets by giving them the impression that they are the puppets of foreign enemies." A tight smile. "We can leave them with all the technology we are authorised to share, help them concentrate their forces, and then give them an excellent chance at winning their independence."

Captain Zhen'var leaned back in her chair, her expression clouded. "I respect your judgement and counsel, Abebech… but I must disagree. A _reasonable chance_ in the face of such immoral rule as the Union of Allied Planets practices is insufficient. I intend to move on Londinium with _Huáscar_ as soon as practical."

"Captain, are you not concerned that would exceed the scope of our operational orders for this mission?"

"I am not. I have further orders you are unaware of, Abebech." Apology shone in her eyes, which she tried to mentally project as well.

"Of course, Captain." Abebech betrayed no displeasure or emotion. "With your leave, then, I will return to the _de Trier_ and prepare the hyperdrive for a jump in-system. If we are to do this, we will make it as emphatic as possible, certainly?"

"Correct, and I do, where possible, wish the local forces to have utmost control. The Alliance is intending to maintain a presence here in at least the short to medium term, Abebech."

"I believe I understand." Abebech could, in fact, directly see the astrostrategic rationale for the deployment. It would give the Alliance a secure base within striking range of Cylon space. "By your leave, then, Captain?" She finished her coffee.

"So granted. I will be relying on you for insight into local conditions. You have more first-hand experience with them than I do… thank you, Commander. _Very_ well done."

* * *

Zhen'var's next order of business that morning had come when she received an excited message from Nah'dur. "Captain, I wanted to let you know that we are utterly successful. The plan you approved after our first fight in the system has worked."

It took several moments for her to recall just _what_ plan Nah'dur was speaking of, first, before recognition dawned in her eyes. "Excellent, Surgeon-Commander! Have we learned anything of use?"

"Yes. I chose the most useful of the Reavers as a subject," Nah'dur replied after a moment. "Her name is Fei Mian and she was a Union officer before personal issues-I suspect related to her sociopathy-forced her retirement. She is from a ranking family and Sihnon and knew what the objective of Pax was; she volunteered in the hopes it would cure her. She has names, Captain. I selected her from a CORTEX site containing information on missing around the Miranda operation on just the anticipation of that and it's paid off. Would you come down to speak to her?"

"I am on the way." She rose from her desk, already starting to plan ahead.

When she arrived, the intensive care ward was completely filled with people. At this stage, twelve hours after the battle had ended, those that were still in intensive care were primarily those that Nah'dur had managed to revive. The crew had still suffered a total of forty-one fatalities over the course of the entire operation so far. It would have been eighty without Nah'dur.

The Dilgar Surgeon-Commander was checking over a bed in the isolation ward, which indicated it was safe to enter-she was just using it for privacy. Va'tor was at her side. In the bed was a woman of lean, corded muscle, Asian in ancestry, with pink skin everywhere from freshly healed scarification. She had no hair, it having been removed for the surgery, and Nah'dur was yet to put false skin over several cybernetic segments added to the skull. She was not restrained.

" _Neih hou._ " came the polite greeting. It was not the same dialect, but it was, at least, mostly comprehensible.

The woman looked up and smiled vaguely. She was still heavily sedated. "Hygienist-Commander Va'tor says that she has suppressed most of my memories for my own sake. You must be Captain Zhen'var."

"I am. A pleasure to meet you, Fei Mian." _It has been a radical effort, but a worthwhile one._

"Thank you… I remember… Starting to lose it," she added, "You want to know about the Pax project?"

"No. What came before. The Union of Allied Planets… I wish to know more. The current situation is intolerable, but I do not wish to act on incomplete information."

"The Union was founded fifty years ago on the basis of lobbying in the elites of Sihnon and Londinium that we needed an alliance of all the worlds of the Verse to remove sources of human suffering. It was actively promoted by some of the megacorps-Blue Sun and Weyland-Yutani-on the grounds of their 'social capitalism' policy. Sihnon and Londinium maintained the old Anglosphere-Chinese alliance of Earth-that-Was, but the movement was a peaceful unification into an actual government. Since then a combination of economic pressure and war was used to unify the rest of the 'Verse, and the local governments in the Core have steadily had their authority reduced. And it worked, Captain. Poverty was eradicated in the inner worlds, and crime reduced, both rich and poor became more wealthy." Fei Mian had never had faith in the government, she had been a sociopath and her memories were the memories of one even if her brain no longer functioned in either of its past states; it ironically made her far more objective in the moment. "Of course, to guarantee a wise policy, those outside of Londinium and Sihnon were required to earn their citizenship, so the voting population is concentrated there."

"The outer systems have revolted once, and are on the verge of doing so again. I do not wish to _destroy_ what has been built, but I cannot permit what was done with _Pax_ , or the what has happened on the outer planets, or a multitude of other projects, as the Union tries to _enforce_ its' control."

"The government is concentrated on Londinium but the main bulwark of support for the Union is Sihnon, which regularly turns out 80% electoral returns for the Government Consensus parties. Londinium still has an opposition based around the old monarchy and the westerners' conception of individual rights. There isn't a left opposition because the government co-opts its positions and twists them into meaninglessness as a matter of policy. I've heard as much in discussions my parents had growing up. Of course, they considered it a sign of pride that we controlled opinion so well."

 _An opposition. That is useful information indeed._ "Our old Imperium would have thought the same. Thank you, that is critically important information I was _not_ aware of." _It is much more difficult to overthrow a regime when you actually care about the aftermath._

"Thank _You,_ " she answered. "I will make a broadcast, if you want me to, Captain. I must."

"You may. It will be a short while before we can get underway. Take the time to rest and recover, please."

Nah'dur followed Zhen'var out at that point, speaking softly once they got back to her office. "I believe I have cured the sociopathy as well as the Reaver tendencies, but she needs long term care to really recover. The others are going to as well."

"I know, Nah'dur. It should have proper telepathic and psychosurgery support as well, but that is lacking here." With an audible sigh, the older woman started to pace. "They will need care, somewhere in the Alliance. The Mha'dorn are advancing quickly in the medical arts, with their sharing of knowledge with the Corps, it seems? Our skill at blending knowledge seems to apply with the mind as well as technology..."

"Yes, I think that best." She paused. "I may have some useful information for another problem the Corps has been dealing with. I've discovered that Pax _in theory_ works on another brain chemical channel. One very similar to the one that the human drug _dust_ in our home universe works on."

"Let El'sau and Va'tor know, the information will find the way to the right place. "

"It's more than that, Captain," Nah'dur interjected. "It didn't work… On the 99.9%. It did work on the 0.1% - in a twisted and perverse way. The Reavers actively experienced a kind of telesomatic pleasure from the agony of others. I believe it may be similar to the effect observed in Eubian Aristos."

"Divine, but…" Her face twisted in revulsion. "It sounds similar, at least. You find matters that… Nah'dur, you are _brilliant_ , but you delve into matters that make me very glad that Fei'nur is on the same ship."

"Certainly," Nah'dur grinned, "I'm _also_ extremely happy that Fei'nur is on the same ship with me."

"As well you should, with your projects. We will be moving into the inner system very soon, now. Be ready for it."

"Understood. Captain, if at all possible, we should use that opportunity to repatriate prisoners. We now have so many aboard that we _will_ run out of replicator material before we reach Earth again." They had needed to convert all the empty cargo bays to bunk-space for Government POWs…

"Most of those we fight are not those we _aim_ to fight - they serve an unjust government with good personal intentions.

"Either way, Captain," Nah'dur smiled thinly, "We need them off the ship before we go home."

* * *

The _de Trier_ 's backup hyperdrive, a 'Class 20', was operational four hours later. The crew of the _Heermann_ watched as the screens abruptly flashed into a static projection of the system, parabolics outlined with script indicating positions and coordinate lock-in.

 _Make the jump to lightspeed,_ Abebech commanded, and River executed the command. It was one of the few systems on the _de Trier_ counted important enough to still require the input of a physical lever from River's position.

The _de Trier_ fired her stabilising thrusters for the last time and then suddenly accelerated much, much faster than a ship should accelerate. Ships in her home universe using modern hyperdrives didn't do this; they also still relied on navigational beacons, though the bands of hyperspace they operated in meant they could fix on beacons that were in realspace.

The _de Trier_ needed neither. She flung herself forward in a flicker of pseudomotion and then vanished in a flair of white light.

"What the …" Even Elia was surprised.

Violeta was too, but she remembered they had a lot of comrades aboard the _de Trier_ and brought the _Huáscar_ to high warp as planned to catch up and overtake her slow backup. The journey was a matter of minutes.

The _Huáscar_ dropped out of warp at Quarters over Londinium. The planet was guarded by fourteen heavy orbital combat satellites. The plan that Zhen'var had already briefed her officers on was to engage them and destroy a hemisphere's worth of defences and then dictate terms to the Government. She didn't launch fighters, they had taken too many casualties already and would be utterly overwhelmed. Either they knock out the heavies and force the government to talk with a display of shock and awe, or they would have to retreat.

"Detecting signature consistent with… _de Trier._ "

With a flicker of pseudomotion the three kilometre long dreadnought, looking like a ghostly ruin, exploded out of hyperspace and de-accelerated into low orbit of Londinium, standing off their starboard quarter.

According to the plan, Daria had already fired a full salvo of forty Solar torpedoes summed from all the launchers. Now she followed it up with the Mk.1 and Mk.2 PPCs, all targeting a single one of the combat satellites. The massive station was rippled with explosions and fires from top to bottom, massive gashes torn in the main hull and huge chunks blasted away by each successive torpedo explosion. They had been on alert, but they never had the time to bring up their defensive anti-missile batteries in the same way the ships entering battle with plenty of warning had.

Then the _de Trier_ opened fire. Her port batteries targeted one station further afield around the equator to the one that the _Huáscar_ had just eviscerated. Neutron beams tracking across its surface, severing weapons and docking platforms with surgical precision, the turbolasers gutted the hull of the station with a tremendous gout of fire. The raw energy was enough to fuse the station's reactor fuel, and a moment later the fusion detonation completely consumed the combat satellite, filling the sky over Londinium with a brilliant flare of raw white, the blazing fury of a newborn and short-lived sun.

Her intact starboard batteries were weaker, but the precision fire of the heavy turbolasers deep into the satellite hull destroyed reactor power to the weapons of a third station within the same heartbeat while the neutron beams swept along the docking bays, destroying the fighters, Cutters and Enforcers before they could launch.

"Three stations down, Captain," Elia confirmed as Londinium shone before them.

"Transmit Fei Mian's recording, Operations. Stand by to give me a channel." The message of a very personal account of Pax and the Miranda project was already going out.

Now that the _Huáscar_ had the full codecs for CORTEX and the security codes from dozens of Government ships, with the time to process them, her enormous computational and broadcast power literally took the entire system over. She washed out the entire system with the power of the broadcast.

All firing stopped as the broadcast began, but it hadn't been soon enough for two capital ships to be unable to finish two more stations, and gut a _Crete_ that had been coming around to launch her fighters. Now, the weapons faded away and the communications warfare began, starting with the recording.

"We have control of all channels and all CORTEX interfaces, Captain," Lieutenant Tor'jar called out. "The recording has gone out and you are now free and clear to broadcast."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She straightened her uniform jacket reflexively. "I am Captain Zhen'var of the Union of Allied Systems. The crimes of the present government are intolerable to moral states. It is to resign in entirety, and new elections to be held under free and open franchise of all _residents_ of the Alliance. Finally, all telepathic subjects of the 'Academy' experiments will be immediately rendered to my custody without harm to mind or body."

The command was electrifying, and emphatic. Five stations and a carrier blazed, or were destroyed outright, in orbit, visible to billions of citizens on the surface of Londinium. The crew listened as it sank in to them that _yes,_ they were simply commanding a government to dissolve itself. At gunpoint.

"Any attack on this squadron will be met by immediate and overwhelming force."

There was no immediate attack, and no immediate reply. Elia grinned wryly from her position at Ops. "Do you think they'll keep us waiting for a while, Captain?"

"Possibly. Give them footage of the battle at the _de Trier_ to make it clear how hopeless their cause is."

"Feeding to you, Leftenant," Elia confirmed to Tor'jar.

"...And, Broadcasting, Commander."

" _I can resume hostilities at any moment, Captain,"_ Abebech's voice came over the tactical. " _However, they are mustering small craft, at a respectable distance."_

 _"Monitor them._ " She paused. "Record for transmitting; _You have fifteen minutes to supply an answer to my ultimatum, or I shall consider the reply negative and immediately resume hostilities._ "

"Broadcasting…"

"We are being contacted," Tor'jar reported three minutes later. "The identifications are from the House of Government in New Cardiff."

"Put them through, Lieutenant." Squaring herself up, Zhen'var raised her chin and brushed her black hair back, eyes level and burning with determination.

"This is Prime Minister Jonathan Zhang," the trim Eurasian man with grayed hair at the temples sat at a desk, his features sharply and carefully composed. "You appear to control the orbitals of one of our core worlds. And you are asking my government to resign and convene elections contrary to Alliance Law."

"I am not asking. I am ordering. You have eleven minutes." Her voice had no give, her face, no flicker of emotion.

"Captain, if it is the situation in the Outer Systems that is the concern, would an immediate withdrawal of all government forces from those planets satisfy you? You are asking me to abrogate the sovereignty of the Union."

"You surrendered any legitimacy your government may have possessed with the acts performed upon your citizens. This is not a negotiation, Excellency."

He spluttered. The channel went dark.

"Ensure his people see that exchange."

"Broadcasting," again Tor'jar forced the video onto the whole of CORTEX.

With two minutes left, a new signal was received from the surface. "Second broadcast, still from New Cardiff. Shall I put it on, Captain?"

"Go ahead. Record for rebroadcast if needs be." She had the same calmly inscrutable expression on her face as the screen blinked back to life.

A different man with sandy blonde-brown hair was on the screen, though in the same kind of formal suit. "Captain Zhen'var, this is Speaker Nathaniel Roberson." He was speaking directly from the House, too, having not taken the time to leave the floor. His expression was pale and taut. "We voted no confidence in Prime Minister Zhang. I am the Head of Delegation for the National League of Londinium, but half the Government Members supported the motion. Will you work with me to de-escalate the situation?"

"If my second term, of a Union-wide vote for the future direction of the Verse is accepted, I accept, assuming, of course, that the third term is met within the next five hours. I have no wish for further bloodshed, or the destruction of the progress the 'Verse and Union have made since your people's exodus from the Earth-That-Was."

"We will hold an immediate floor vote on the franchise and the appointment of a new Prime Minister on those terms," he answered. "The Academy subjects will be handed over as you directed, within the five-hour timetable. Is that sufficient against your immediate deadline?"

"It is. I shall withdraw to high orbit."

"We will stand down." The message again blinked off.

When it did, Elia started to laugh. "Gods, Captain, but if anyone from the Earth Alliance sees me in a video of you doing that, they'd probably die."

"You seem to think that is _not_ going to end up in an Alliance news feed that ISN will re-broadcast, Commander." She leaned back, feeling a tenseness she'd held for days finally start to relax. _I will hope for a high death-toll, El'sau._

Nobody else on the bridge could really figure out why their Ops officer was laughing so hard.

 **Tag**

Deep inside an ornate, Chinese-style castle on Sihnon, two Union political operatives looked at each other nervously. Neither one wanted this mission. They were both terrified of the wrath of the woman they knew as Lady Seng.

It was only when another figure arrived, sandals pattering down the corridors of the castle in the dim light, cloak billowing, that they decided better it be them than the figure who was approaching.

Together, as one, they opened the doors and pushed their way in, both bowing deeply toward the seat on which the frail woman with sharply done up, lividly black hair sat.

"Lady Seng. We have unfortunate news. Prime Minister Zhang has been sacked, and the government has agreed to the terms of the alien Captain."

There was silence as Mariza, the third figure, approached from behind.

Then Lady Seng slowly opened her eyes, and the two recoiled from that sight they had never gotten used to. "The plan has indeed been interrupted," she said softly, "but I am the one who gave permission to the Delegates to vote no confidence in Prime Minister Zhang. His usefulness was outlived by the exigencies of circumstance. We will find new opportunities; Captain Zhen'var is already negotiating for possession of Miranda as an Alliance base. Even if we have lost the Interuniversal Drive on Object Sigma, we will get another chance. And my dears, we will find the electorate in the Outer Worlds as easy to manipulate as that of Londinium and Sihnon. The words will change, but the price of a politician will not. Inform the board of Weyland-Yutani to take care to accept full responsibility. We will declare a reorganisation bankruptcy to protect the assets that we need for renewed operations. That is all."

* * *

Bea, Mal, Simon, River, Abebech, Fei'nur, Elia and Zhen'var were sitting around a table in a conference room on the _Huáscar,_ with the remains of a spread served up from the officer's mess around them.

Mal smiled wryly. "Captain, we do owe you a lot. I thought you would headin' out after this, and unlikely to return. But when I got the news of Miranda… Truth be told, I don't like the idea of the Outer Planets seeing an even bigger power settled next to 'em. We still got enough trouble with the Core. But it's pretty clear that if they don't like how the vote goes, you'll be there."

"I doubt it will be… forever, which is _good_. It means we will be there just long enough to… steady matters." She was picking her words carefully. "I admit, what I decided upon was a compromise of what you had desired, Captain Reynolds, and I must apologise for halting short of what was deserved, Captain Tam."

"You rescued all of us, that's the important part," River replied. She was in a flowing sundress, not the Terran Reich military uniform, but sitting with Simon at her side, she looked more mature than she had been seen before, even so.

"It was a compromise," Mal shrugged. "It wasn't sellin' us out. I can tell the difference. We've still got the _de Trier_ and fifteen warships if things do go to hell before more Alliance forces return."

"Captain Reynolds is being modest," Bea added. "I encouraged him to …"

"Don't even bring that up! I ain't the man for the job."

"He really doesn't like the idea of _running for Parliament,_ " River said in a conspiratorial whisper to Zhen'var.

"One might say that the one who hates the idea of power, but grasps the responsibility, is the best choice of all. I shall, however, _not_ suggest it, Captain Reynolds. It clearly has already been done."

"Well, I've always done what I had to, to keep myself free," Mal answered after a moment. "I suppose if that's what I had to do to keep it, then I'd do it." He glanced at Bea. "But there are certainly people more suited to the politics side of things."

"We are forming a political party to contest the election," the woman agreed. "My father fought with Captain Reynolds at Serenity Valley, and died there; I had thought we would fight together in a struggle against the Union government, but maybe, just maybe, it won't be necessary."

"That is my hope, at least." Zhen'var took her ever-present cup. "If it comes to it, then we will fight together, but wars are uncertain and difficult things, as most of us know first-hand."

"Of all the things you have helped us with though, Captain," Simon added a quiet moment later, "before we go, the one I want to thank you most for is River. She had such potential, I saw it as her brother, we all saw it, and she deserved to have something more than what the Alliance left her with. You have given her her future back."

"He's just trying to embarrass me," River said a bit sheepishly.

But as she said that, Mal looked almost, not quite but almost, like he was going to tear up. "Yeah." He finally said, shaking his head. "She's part of our family. The _Serenity_ family. Giant old starship or whatever, she's our River. And thank you for givin' that future back to her."

* * *

Four days later, the _Huáscar_ stood off from the _Francesco de Trier,_ and turned outbound. With Will on the bridge, Nah'dur took advantage of the relative peace and quiet to tug Fei'nur and Zhen'var down to Café Varna for a meal.

The Captain always looked a bit uncomfortable in social settings with the crew, and she often regretted letting herself be dragged along - it had been hard enough to get her down here for her _birthday_.

This moment was no exception, because she had caught a fair number of her officers in the middle of something. They were clustered around one of the large wood plank tables off in the corner, well, except for Elia and Goodenough, who were standing on top of it with tankards, leading the song.

" _Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain_ _  
_ _For it's we've received orders for to sail for old England_ _  
_ _But we hope very soon we shall see you again_ _  
_ _We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors_ _  
_ _We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas_ _  
_ _Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England_ _  
_ _From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues_ "

Anna was playing the accordion in the corner, and Abebech was strumming her guitar with a look of bemusement on her face, and Ca'elia was belting it out in true style along with the rest of them, as Abdulmajid tried to keep along and Abel did a much better job. Violeta had an impish grin, and Arterus was laughing and grinning at the table until he saw the Captain, and stiffened right up.

" _We hove our ship to with the wind at sou'west, boys_

 _We hove our ship to, our soundings to see_

 _So we rounded and sounded; got forty-five fathoms_

 _We squared our main yard and up channel steered we_ "

Elia finally saw the three of them and her dark eyes widened.

"I… carry on. My apologies for interrupting." Zhen'var waved awkwardly, and hurriedly turned to depart.

Before she could, Elia looked a grin to Jonathan Goodenough and then struck up another song.

" _Come all you warlike spacers, that to the stars belong_

 _I'll tell you of a fight, my boys, on board the Huáscar_

 _It was of a Dilgar captain, her name was Zhen'var_

 _With courage bold, she did control, she played her part so well!"_

 _Oh Divine, you think singing about me is going to get me to do anything other than leave **faster**?!_

That left the three Dilgar standing outside of Café Varna with Nah'dur looking confused. "Why did we leave?"

"You saw Arterus. The crew cannot really celebrate freely with me there. You two, go, enjoy your dinner, I _insist_."

"But, Captain! You have to understand, it means your officers, they _love_ you, Zhen'var!" Fei'nur exclaimed.

"Elia, at least, but you two, go. Enjoy, there is clearly a celebration, and you deserve to be part of it.

"Goodenough was in on it as well, sister, and he's on the _Heermann,_ " Nah'dur remarked calmly. "I agree with Fei'nur's assessment."

"It does not change the awkwardness nor inappropriate nature of my being present at such. Now _get in there,_ you two."

"And leave you alone? We should all at least decamp to Fei'nur's quarters and try out replicator selections together."

"I am the Captain, there is no need." Zhen'var was starting to look fractionally annoyed at Nah'dur being stubborn, and Fei'nur's discomfort was growing as she reached for the Surgeon-Commander's elbow. "Another night, Captain. Nah'dur will not let you escape the postponement."

Nah'dur sighed. "Yes, Fei'nur, where …"

"Another night, come now, Nah'dur." The commando gestured the doctor back towards the doors. "I am sorry it did not work out, Captain."

Zhen'var waved it off as she started to turn to go. "It sometimes comes to be. Do not let it trouble you."

As she walked away, she was softly singing under her breath.

 _"I have watched my shipmates come and go, and worked while others died, there are no words to tell you what I feel inside."_ Not all of them, after all, were going home. It was the Pilot's mess which had no-one present at the little gathering. Almost half the fatalities had been theirs. And Zhen'var was the Captain of her crew. Each and every one, even those who floated in the driftless void between the stars of the Verse, having fought and died for freedom.


	34. Episode 7 Act 1

**Introduction**

"I screwed up. Sometimes the regs aren't enough," Janice Richards was sighing. "If we had done pat-downs we might have found those grenades and recognised them for what they were, instead of the sensors failing to recognise what they were." Her face twisted into a grimace. "And we nearly lost several people from it."

The atmosphere around the table was quiet and serious. After returning to Earth-that-Was, the _Huáscar_ had jumped and ultimately arrived at Doreia and the dockyards there. The sustained high speed running in both directions meant that the _Huáscar_ would spend a week undergoing maintenance for her drives and reactors. It was time for the debrief.

"That's not on you, Janice," Will offered, shaking his head. "We all pulled through together. The only question is how to fix it in the future."

"That's easy. We go above and beyond the automated weapons-and-contraband detectors. We get actual images. Use the computers to address privacy concerns… Ugh, that puts us back in being dependent on the computers, y'all."

"As much as it is a lot of effort, pat-downs for anyone except ambassadorial parties and such?" Violeta proposed, well into the spirit of the sessions now, having fully grasped the logic behind how Zhen'var ran the _Huáscar._

"We should also task a Mha'dorn to just passively be around entering parties to detect any kind of hostility that may justify further surveillance," Elia added. "We can set up a rotation among the Marines, it makes sense to keep them busy in regular operations." She glanced to Fei'nur."

"The fourth company allows the flexibility to do so, certainly, though we are asking much of the Mha'dorn of late. A rotation of those with such talents in general would help with any possible morale effect."

"There is a certain _esprit d'corps_ in the Mha'dorn," Elia answered, "which helps. However, we also have three Gersallian _farisa_ and Leftenants Seldayiv and de Más." She didn't mention Abebech since, as a Commander, rank hath its privileges. Really even Daria and Artesia was stretching.

"It's true. I'll speak to the contingent and determine if they even _want_ the help." Fei'nur made a few notes. "You are right, they _can_ be quite closely knit, though a designated reserve will be welcome."

"Can we do anything to improve upon our performance with the rules for escalation of force?" Elia asked. "I mean, the end result of that was that let those Reaver ships get way, way too close to us before we opened fire. That didn't _have_ to happen. Or did it?"

"I'm not really sure if we could have changed the escalation rules very much," Arterus shrugged. "The Alliance, Commander, has made its decisions on what is acceptable and not for warships. We could backpedal, but that would encourage some foes."

"With limited intelligence on whom we are facing, the existing standing orders cannot be justifiably modified. If we had known that the 'Reavers' existed, going astern would have been a logical response to allow completion of the ladder." Fei'nur offered.

"I think that one is just part of the reality of serving on an Alliance starship," Lar'shan interjected a bit sadly. "We're expected to act according to a certain moral course of conduct, and it may impose excess risk against us."

"Well, that may not have a solution," Will sighed. "Anything else?"

"I left us temporarily limited to Warp 6 by not being more careful with the drive around the jamming field. It had no negative consequences, but it could have. I'm also not sure that taking the mains offline automatically in such a circumstance would be wise," Anna added, going next.

"It seems like a specific technical problem related to the disruption field on the _de Trier._ Did we ever identify what was causing?" Elia looked around.

Fera'xero nodded. "It was a Wave Field Generator which produced powerful distortions in subspace. We are not sure how a Wave Field Generator works yet, however."

There was some back and forth about that. Next, Will went. "I shouldn't have pressed for the launch of the assault force as quickly as did. The burst transmission because the doors were open to the parasite bay was unforseeable as being the consequence that came about, but with an incident aboard the ship I should have been more cautious about committing to action even so."

"Aggression is a valued trait in action," Zhen'var corrected gently. "I think it was right, even with the consequences."

Lar'shan was quiet during it, and very composed. He waited for the others to finish. Finally, with his hands folded, he began to speak. "Our fighters are optimised for the way the United Federation of Planets fights wars. They assume very limited numbers of fighters, close range engagement with energy weapons. The micro-torpedo launcher is ineffective against highly manoeuvrable fighters and the failure to increase the number of missile hard-points means we are constantly resorting to guns plane to plane when outnumbered. It removes our advantages. We should be fighting primarily with missiles. The Mongoose is inadequate for the full spectrum of threats we face, and we lost many good pilots because of it."

"The Warmaster has heard similar complaints from other Dilgar pilots." Fei'nur spoke, glancing about and shifting in her chair. "But they are what is issued, are they not?"

"Dilgar pilots back home are still mostly flying Centauri marks," Lar'shan shook his head. "They were, but we are in an unusual circumstance. Still, it's at least just something to bear in mind."

"Maybe more than that. Give me a more detailed spec list of what you need, I will see what I can do." the Marine officer finished.

"Certainly," he answered, with a shake of his head. "The strategic mobility of warp drive helps, but when you must _fight,_ to defend or attack a particular place, you cannot overcome fighters with warp strafing techniques."

"It's something we've got to get fixed," Elia agreed. "The hardest challenge, but it's hurt us the most."

"Well, I think that's about everything. Thank you all for the suggestions, and of course there will be progress updates. Dis-missed." Will waited for them to file out, quietly shaking his head when the door finally closed. "I almost think Fei'nur and Lar'shan are really planning to get us new fighters."

* * *

The next day, Vice Admiral Lakshamaran commed Zhen'var. He was the new commander of the Explorer Squadron, a Dorei man who had been given the job when Maran had found it too much to stay on top of his CNO duties and also directly order around the Alliance's tiny fleet of, so far, only seven Explorer-type ships. Basically the same size as battlecruisers and the most prestigious ships in the fleet, they still needed some kind of order and organisation. Lakshamaran, though, still reported directly to Maran.

"Vice-Admiral Lakshamaran." Zhen'var nodded politely. "Good morning. I have my first after-action reports and analyses ready to brief you upon, at your convenience. A pleasure to meet you, sir." His appointment while they had been on their long mission had been something of a surprise upon their return, even if the Dilgar woman thought it overdue in hindsight.

"Thank you, Captain Zhen'var. Send them forward to me and provide your brief in summary as quickly as possible. I will then discuss the main reason for my contact, which is your next assignment." He was level and calm, certainly a suitable subordinate for Maran in maintaining the same style of command.

"Of course. I secured a forward operating base on a planet long abandoned, and assisted in the overthrow of an oppressive government, while making certain discoveries that I will only send by courier. Short operational analysis is that the ship and crew performed reasonably well, but I cannot say the same of the Wing due to materiel shortcomings. Sickbay efficiency continues to remain several deviations above Alliance norms." She replied in short, clipped sentences.

"There may be a full debriefing later this week. Thank you for the summary." He paused. "You have a week at Doreia, Captain, to complete the adjustments to the engines. Cut leave as appropriate for your crew, it's also authorised for yourself. After that, we have a special assignment for you to support what may be one of the first positive developments in reforming the League of Democratic Worlds in A2M6."

"Of course, sir. I would request as much background brief as possible to start work on planning immediately, around leave blocks." Zhen'var replied, eyes alert.

"The world of Garatnam has been occupied by the League of Democratic Worlds for the past sixty-two years, essentially as a colony. The indigenous population are the Numeraians, 'root-building ones', a semi-specialised pseudoinsectoid species. They have maintained resistance to the League occupation the entire time, and the League decided to bring in Alliance mediation to negotiate a withdrawal as the maintenance of the garrison no longer made economic sense. Our lead negotiator has indicated a desire for a cease-fire force to hold position during the evacuation."

"Thank you, Vice-Admiral. That gives me a good starting point. I would request the full reports from Intelligence and the negotiating team on scene as well. As much as I would wish this to be a simple presence mission, _Huáscar_ is often in harm's way."

"Certainly, Captain. You will see them shortly. Until then, make sure your crew has the opportunity to appreciate their return, and when the _Huáscar_ is ready, I am confident you will go forth with your usual alacrity."

Zhen'var gave a sharp nod. "Until then, I am at your service, sir." As soon as the screen blinked out, she reached for her comms panel. "Commander Atreiad, we will be docked for the next week. Leave for all hands is authorized, schedule accordingly."

"Damn good news, Captain. I'll get started. The crew was really hoping for this, too."

"They need it… and, Commander? I shall be taking a leave block, too."

"I promise the ship will still be intact when you get back, Captain." There was a grin in Will's voice. "Go ahead and go first."

"Thank you, Commander." Zhen'var's face broke into a smile as she switched channels. "Colonel Fei'nur, leave is approved, would you care to take an excursion to Doreia…?"

"That sounds like an excellent plan, Captain. Same plan as Gersal?"

"Indeed, Fei'nur, indeed. Would you inquire as to possible destinations?"

* * *

 **Undiscovered Frontier Origins : Golden Triangle**

 **Season 1, Episode 7**

* * *

 **Act 1**

"Lieutenant Seldayiv, this is Colonel Fei'nur." Her omnitool beeped. "Might I trouble you for a personal question?"

"Colonel.. A personal question?" Daria blinked in surprise in her quarters. She had been preparing to decamp to the Temple of Amilra where she had taken training. "By all means, I do suppose."

"Captain Zhen'var and myself are about to take our leave on the surface. Would you be able to suggest any places of special interest to a pair of interuniversal tourists?"

"Well, the Temple of the Great Goddess in Felunura is certainly considered to be the most beautiful on all Doreia," she answered. "And the Royal Gardens of Tirambina are open to the public. And there's the Tirramka Falls, which are three hundred metres high where a great river sharply drops from a plateau-it's like the Amazon going over a waterfall three times as high as Niagara Falls. And then there's the Oulanta Bay, which is filled with ship-clans who live on boats around all of these tiny limestone islands left over from erosion which can be a hundred metres high with vegetable on top, rising out of the blue surface of the sea. _That's_ incredible. There's arches and caves and such an entire floating bazaar."

" _Brilliant!_ That sounds _wonderful_ , thank you, Lieutenant! Enjoy your own leave as well."

"Thank you very much, Colonel. I hope you and the Captain enjoy Doreia a great deal."

"I hope so too. This crew is the most well-traveled Dilgar there have rather ever been, I think."

"I am sure this is just the beginning. Until later, Colonel…"

"Until later, Lieutenant. Again, thank you. Enjoy your time at home."

She finished packing and headed to the transporter room. Zhen'var was already waiting. "No Libo Briefing?"

"Will volunteered to do it," Zhen'var answered. Her grin was distinctly… giddy, in the way a woman with a death sentence lifted might have.

"Well then. Brave man. Let's go visit Doreia!" Fei'nur, for all her reputation, looked almost ebullient.

"Certainly, one moment. I'm waiting to make sure we don't have to remove someone from the ship by force."

" _Captain_?"

Just that moment, Anna Poniatowska arrived in the transporter room with a duffle bag wearing mufti.

"Excellent! Commander, you are to take five days of leave!" Zhen'var spun about with a grin on her face. "No arguing, they just need you to make sure they _actually_ fixed the engines."

As they spoke, Fei'nur was checking her omnitool. She had one last thing to follow up on. _Nah'dur, you are such a silly kit sometimes for your age, but I think despite the fact your contact is much less than you think, the contact will still matter._ Satisfied, she turned to the conversation between Zhen'var and Anna.

"Of course, Captain." She sighed in an effort to relax. "So we part ways on the planet and I'm free and clear then?"

"Correct, as long as you are enjoying yourself."

"Alright then." She took one glance around. "Leave. What is that, again…?" The transporter twirled away the answer.

* * *

William Atreiad was standing in the main hangar on a small roll-out podium with a PA connection. Rick Dugan was standing next to him. In front of them were several thousand people who badly wanted to be on leave: Spacers, Marines and Airmen. The Officers, both commissioned and warrant, had already gotten their assignments.

Will read the cliff notes and then read them again. His expression got progressively more dubious. Then he leaned over to Rick and was about to whisper, before he paused, tapped the mic to make sure it was off, and then whispered. "..Do we really have to read them this crap?"

Rick whispered right back: "Well Sir, what if one of them comes back with two DWIs, a thousand credit bar tab, three women knocked up and a venereal disease? You ask them how the hell they did that all in five days before starting their Captain's Mast, and they say 'nobody told me not to.'"

Will twisted his face into a grimace, and then shrugged and stepped back behind the mic, and this time turned it on. " _Huáscarenos,_ " he began, and everyone was standing at parade rest but the anticipation was bubbling out of control in the room. "All enlisted personnel have been authorised five days of leave."

" _WHOOO-HOOO OORAH HELLYEAH! LIBO! F-YEAH!"_

The hangar erupted into cheering. Will cracked a grin. "Officers will get eighty-four hours in two rotations and have already received their assignments. Ranks get five days starting now-as soon as we're done." That was a hard sell, they all wanted to leave immediately.

"There's a few things we have to go over first." The holoprojector behind him flashed with the first holoslide. "Anti-Terrorism Awareness is a critical part of who we are in the Alliance Military. Nazi and Cylon terrorist attacks can occur anyplace, any time. Recently in universe M4P2 there has been a large upsurge in terrorist activity by a mysterious group called the 'Collectors'. I've seen them work first-hand, they wipe out colonies indiscriminately, focusing on innocent civilians. But they're also involved in sapient trafficking. And sapient trafficking is usually linked to terrorism. There is a strong nexus between Nazi-Cylon operations and human trafficking by the Eubian Concord, for example. Because of that we need to make sure that everyone has the iSee App properly configured on their omnitool before going on leave so you can make reports while on Liberty. Remember, if you see something, say something."

Next slide. People were already getting shifty on their feet.

"Alcohol is serious business. The _Huáscar_ has had lots of problems with alcohol consumption and I want to make it explicit that we expect you all to come back from Liberty _sober._ Observe a two-drink limit when operating motor vehicles and any kind of machinery. Remember that you should not be seen drinking more than two drinks while in uniform or while wearing identifiable government property, such as an omnitool. _Especially_ remember that a single alcoholic beverage may contain more than one serving of alcohol. Use the buddy system: If someone is having trouble with their alcohol, look out for your shipmate. And remember, lots of spaceport bars are centres of sapient trafficking. If you're out enjoying libations tonight and you see dancers or sex workers who may be held against their will, file an iSee report."

Next slide. "Motor vehicle safety is critically important on Liberty. Seven thousand Alliance personnel die a year from motor vehicle accidents; it's the second leading cause of death after combat. Obey _all_ traffic and operating restrictions on Doreia, familiarise yourself with the local traffic regulations _before_ you get in the driver's seat, and use public transit wherever possible. Remember that at all times when on Liberty, traffic violations _can lead to Captain's Mast._ And most importantly, if you've had too much, _don't operate machinery._ "

Next slide. "Sex is a part of life. Look, _Huáscarenos,_ it's been a long haul, and I don't want to get out there and stop you from having fun. But remember that if you're with a member of your own species or a related species, this can have consequences, even the kind of consequences that Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur can't fix. Any sexual activity also carries a risk of disease, and there are some pretty nasty space bugs out there. Use appropriate protection for your gender and species and _familiarise yourself with the age of consent for a species and the jurisdiction you are in before having any kind of sexual contact with a stranger._ Furthermore, again, if you see something, say something. It is a Courts Martial, not just Captain's Mast, to knowingly have sexual relations with a victim of sapient trafficking. But _don't_ try to go into a situation where you may be outgunned-don't be a vigilante if you detect this. Use iSee as soon as you can."

Next Slide. "Remember that it's important to keep government information systems safe from cyberterrorism and espionage. _Never share access on your omnitool with anyone. Never download programmes on your omnitool from any source except the AllNavy App Store's approved download list. Do not use your government omnitool to interface with non-government computer systems._ "

Next slide. Will felt his soul puddling out of his body and draining into the deck of the hangar bay.

"Sailors and Marines are popular targets for financial scams. Keep yourself safe by making sure that you only use an approved banking app on your omnitool. Never pay credits to a vendor for something that you don't receive at the time of purchase, unless it's through a bank-authorized app interface. Avoid carrying more than thirty credits of cash at a time. And also remember to store valuables in your hotel safe, and always ask for a hotel room on the middle floors-never stay in the top or bottom floor of a hotel, and make sure your hotel has window bars, security cameras, and is on the Government Travel Approved List." He manfully avoided a deep sigh, stepping away from the microphone after turning it off. "All right, that's everything. Chief?"

Rick Dugan grinned at him, and then stepped up to the podium. There were no slides. His hand formed a knife shape as he leaned over the podium, but stayed high. He didn't _need_ the microphone. "Alright you benighted boys and girls, all that stuff the Commander just said boils down to three things: Headlines, Handcuffs, and Hospitals! You better sure as hell stay outta all three! _And remember,_ the Surgeon-Commander is on leave too, so you need to come back actually sober, not show up staggering drunk to get some Niltox! Now with that said, keep the jackassery to a minimum and if you're an idiot, I might as well know it now, so go right on ahead and drink and drive and do random alien drugs and knock a ho up and get in barfights, so we can get you in front of the Captain's Mast and get you the hell off this ship! As for the rest of you, act like adults, do whatever it is that lets you come back here and be awesome again. And if you do have to start a fight, _Huáscarenos,_ follow escalation rules and _make damn sure our crew wins it_! Now get out there and enjoy Libo! Dis- _miss_."

* * *

Nah'dur was still onboard for the first half of the leave, approximately. She had been granted an extra twelve hours that would overlap with Nah'dur and Zhen'var's vacation. For the next three days, then, she'd be holding down the sickbay for the rest of her staff. She was the only Doctor onboard, but with only half the officers onboard and none of the enlisted, there was essentially nothing for her to do.

With Nurse Ritaram able to call her if someone actually needed something, she wandered over to the Mess. There were not many in it; however, the crew of the _Heermann_ was busier. Their heavily damaged attacker had actually been fully repaired inside of her bay, using the massive number of spare parts they had stocked for the long duration operation. Now a few jury-rigs were being fixed by the dockyard, but these would also be done within one week.

Still, it was much more involved than for the _Huáscar._ The enlisted had been given the same leave as everyone else for esprit de corps, but most of the senior officers on the _Heermann_ were staying around to make sure the repairs were completed in time for the next deployment. Nah'dur remembered Zhen'var mentioning that she was plotting some way to make up for that and was still gunning on giving them forty-eight hour passes at the end of the docking because they could run a shakedown from the _Huáscar_ while in transit.

Still. It left them fully on the ship for the moment, and Nah'dur wasn't surprised to see Ca'elia settling down for her own replicated meal. "Ca'elia," she offered, padding over the replicator to make her selections, ytar and terama-fish steak with a garnish of acara berries and seshma leaves. "How is the work going on the _Heermann_?"

"Surgeon-Commander. Well enough. On schedule, at least." The young helmswoman looked up at her and blinked widely. "... May I help you in some way?" A piece of Beef Wellington, with what looked to be a small carafe of coffee next to it sat before her."

"Oh, I just wanted to talk. There is nobody left in sickbay except for myself and a nurse, and most of my acquaintances have gone to the surface," Nah'dur explained as she sat down. "...You are eating human food, I see. Does it taste good?"

"Very much. Would you care to try some? A few modifications from different human chefs to make it more palatable for Dilgar, but it was near enough to perfectly all right beforehand, Mistress."

"It looks like beef." Nah'dur looked around, and then added, a bit softly, "I confess, I think those who take the imitation of the teachings of dharma that far are overdoing it. I believe in dharma, but we are not humans."

Ca'elia winced sharply. "I apologise, Mistress. I had not intended to offer insult. It is, of course. Beef Wellington, they call it."

Nah'dur reached out and took a piece. "You misunderstand. I am saying I don't hold to the same belief about those restrictions. Thank you, Ca'elia. My mother let us form our own opinions of how to integrate our beliefs."

"I think I understand that. I admit, I'm not very religious, but that wasn't much encouraged on New Eden." came the reply from the young woman before her, as she popped another piece of the filet into her mouth and reached for her cup. "Warmaster Shai'jhur seems very wise, an ideal regent for our people."

"Mother-Shai is a cool hand on the tiller; which was exactly what we needed. She's said to me in retrospect that if she had been in charge in the days of old, she'd have conquered the Alacans and declared to the people they were another breed of Dilgar so they could be integrated; and Tirrith and Roth and some border worlds from the Drazi, and then made peace and moved a few billion Dilgar. Jha'dur would have been tasked with curing the spores, and her brother given a scouting fleet to explore far beyond us, which might have found Tira and Anakamos. But instead, the Council was made up mostly of idiots, not the wise, and so she could only save scraps. The food's very good, by the way."

"If anyone left alive can kill those spores, it's you, Mistress. I already know that you offer the best chance for the crew come out alive on the other side of these missions they give us if anything goes wrong."

"I'm working on it, among other projects. I've had a few major steps along the way. Maybe another two years? That's my current timetable, but biology is not rigid like engineering," Nah'dur answered innocently.

"Another two years? Mistress, that is… _wonderful_." Ca'elia remarked with a tone of awe in her voice.

"It's personal with me and those spores," Nah'dur answered with a somewhat baleful expression. "I'm not letting them escape alive." She stretched and looked curiously at Ca'elia's cup.

"Camp coffee, Mistress." the young officer offered, to the unspoken question.

"...Coffee? But I have been looking for coffee to drink, and so far I have only found the national drink of the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, Coffeemilk, and that is served cold. Nothing else really seems tolerable to Dilgar tastebuds. That is hot coffee, Ca'elia. How do you stand it?"

"It's _Camp Coffee_ , Mistress. Normal coffee…" She made a face of disgust. "They kept trying to get us to drink it on New Eden, as it was in the rations. This, this is different." She would drain her cup, and refill it halfway from the carafe, adding a bit of cream. "Here."

Nah'dur took a drink from the cup. "... _It's wonderful!_ Thank you, Ca'elia. I have finally found a kind of coffee I can like. This is quite amazing."

The young helmswoman dared a smile. "Thank you, Mistress."

"You are most welcome," Nah'dur looked so pleased, so stretched contentedly and then drank more of the Camp Coffee.

Looking over the rim of her cup, Ca'elia grinned openly at her. "So… are there any other human foods you are looking for tolerable versions of? I have quite the experience with trying to find them."

"That would be amazing. I'm looking for authentic ones. Usually, the Captain has helped with the ones from the Indian Subcontinent, and some from China."

"Well, we'll have to synchronize our meal-times whenever _Heermann_ is docked, Surgeon-Commander. I'd be happy to help."

"Oh, I shall be most enthused. The only exception is when I get a chance to eat with Colonel Fei'nur, but that doesn't happen often… Isn't Colonel Fei'nur quite incredible? She's actually very smart, you know, beyond the whole part of being the last Spectre."

"So I have heard you say before. She… really _is_ , but you mean she's… more intellectual than most would expect? It feels strange to be talking about her like this, Surgeon-Commander."

"Well… She's been close to my family for a long time, but yes. I suppose, it's all well and good." her eyes glimmered. "Thank you so much, Ca'elia. You have shown me a kindness in introducing me to these things."

"You're welcome, ma'am. I look forward to our meetings, even if I can't keep up with you in conversation!" Daringly, she offered a hand. "It's nice to meet you… Nah'dur, if you will permit me the informality?"

"Oh yes, I do." Nah'dur smiled. "Thank you again, Ca'elia. I must obtain my own Camp Coffee now."

"I think I can help you with that." Inside, Ca'elia thrilled. She'd made a friend on _Huáscar!_

* * *

Nah'dur had plenty of tasks to keep up on, including inspections and operational planning and various paperwork, but she considered this conversation more important than any of the others. Of all the things she was working on, the genophage was the most sincerely challenging, and she relished that challenge, she also relished the comeuppence to the arrogant Salarians who thought they were good at science, and to teach a lesson to those who though the Krogan dead, as people had accounted the Dilgar dead.

Also, it let her boast a little. She was following up with Wrex on her latest developments now that they had returned to Alliance space. She made the extranet connection request and waited.

The scarred Krogan Battlemaster's face flickered into view. "Nah'dur. Been a few months."

"We were operating outside of extranet connection range for an extended period. Very interesting set of events, I'm sure you'll hear some about it eventually. Telepaths to save and governments to overthrow and that sort of thing," Nah'dur answered cheerfully, waving idly at the screen.

"It's been interesting here too. What do you have?" The Krogan was a gruff as his reputation implied, watching her carefully. She was _remarkably_ cheerful.

"I have a strategy for correcting the genophage _in part,_ it will restore the rate of viable births to about two-thirds of what it was before. It will require a retrovirus to apply, and is a genetic modification. So it will take time to come into effect. But it has worked successfully at the laboratory scale in all trials over the past months. It doesn't cure the genophage, it just introduces a small genetic modification into how embryos form to make them resilient to the main mode of effect of the genophage. This should, however, build on the previous work to push you back into a positive population growth."

He glanced at something out of view for a moment, before leaning in. "That gives us _hope._ You've done good. Now you be careful before someone tries to stop you from continuing your work, got it?"

"I understand. Mother has permanently assigned Spectre Fei'nur to this ship, and there are a lot of Mha'dorn here. I sleep with a pistol under my pillow even aboard the _Huáscar,_ and I carry a top-rated Solarian personal shield. There are people who would kill me for my clan name, Wrex, let alone what I'm doing for you and the Krogan."

"You are a friend to the Krogran. They won't like what'll happen if one of us catches up to them, heh."

"Well, thank you. I do appreciate the relationship. We distrusted species need to stick together for our own mutual safety." She grinned. "So, I'll send the specifications with the usual encryption. However, I really need to go to living embryo trials before we release this retrovirus. For that, we are going to need to meet somewhere or have isolation tanks with sperm and eggs sent for me to work with. If that works, I'm going to have to get close enough to some Krogan to do a full-scale clinical trial. I can take a leave of absence for that, or the deployment schedule will work out. One of our officers has a contact with her own ship, a Rihannsu. She might be able to help."

"All right. Difference between your homeworld and mine is that rather than the air trying to kill you, it's the Krogan. I'll be in contact. Good work, Nah'dur."

"Thank you, Wrex. I have appreciated the challenge greatly. I am certain the Salarians will not leave it be… But I'll blow that bridge up when I come to it. Actually, wait. I think I have a plan for spreading the retrovirus to Tuchanka. Do you think you could fund a month's worth of operations from a dreadnought?"

"Kid, I'm not sure where you're going with this, but let's say I _could…"_

* * *

The two Dilgar women, for safety's sake, were in their uniforms as they explored the planet. It was best to make it clear to those around them that they were Alliance personnel, even here on Doreia where they refreshingly didn't encounter a single expression of fear or anger the entire time, just like Gersal. Instead, the first day was a whirlwind of temples and gardens, and on the second they had gone to the great falls.

"Divine, Fei'nur, it's _beautiful_ here, is it not?" Zhen'var marveled, looking skyward, through the rainbow-dappled mist that rose high from the base of the waterfalls.

"All of that water… It's so wonderful to look at. There are falls just as big on the rivers leading to the great central seas on Rohric, though, as they drop down into the sea-plains. But it's not exactly tourist territory."

"Perhaps some-day they will be, when Nah'dur succeeds. Do you want to try the path up-top? It will take most of the day, if we try, and we have that reservation for tonight to try and make."

"..We should both be able to handle that, since Nah'dur isn't along," Fei'nur grinned.

"Still not managing to get sister up to your standards? Your fitness regime certainly transformed _my_ scores. I am all the way up to the top end of Tier Two!" Teeth flashing in a smile, Zhen'var slung her pack of her shoulders. "Come on, then, daylight is wasting, we can call an aircar from the cable station and ride it down to meet them when we are at the top."

"Certainly!" Muscles pumping, the big Dilgar woman and the smaller beside her started up the long hike across the sheer granite switchbacks-with safety rails long installed, granted-to the top, showing incredible views of the far side of the great horseshoe falls. For the moment, then, they were perfectly happy and as far from Duty as possible.

Zhen'var was visibly exhausted, but triumphant when they reached the top, with the sun hanging low in the sky. "That… was… _wonderful!"_

 _"_ Kind of damp, but at least it's very clean water," Fei'nur laughed. "It was a great hike." She took out her camera to capture some 3-D's at the top, too. For a moment, a pang over the lack of kits struck her. She wasn't sure it was healthy for a Spectre and the Warmaster had come first. But her smile surged again. The Warmaster's six daughters were a fine prize to have nurtured and there might yet be time. She took several of the captain, and traded the imager to get some of herself, too - another tourist, up top where the usual landing point of the cable cars was, would serve to get them both in a few shots as well.

"It was." Breathing hard at the exertion, Zhen'var was feeling remarkably accomplished. " _Worth it_."

"Completely worth it." Fei'nur agreed with a comfortable laugh, the sheer, staggering immensity of the water just continuously pouring off, the falls stretched almost to the horizon it seemed, they were 10-km wide here with a series of islands along the top dividing them into a series of massive channels. This was an otherworldly sight, as grand as any which could be imagined, a fairy-tale book of clean water and nature's artistic hand.

A wistful sigh slipped out of Zhen'var's black lips as she stared out over the landscape. "Until I began performing my work-outs with you, I would _not_ have been able to do that in anything less than _twice_ the time, Fei'nur."

Fei'nur looked suitably pleased. "I'm glad I've justified myself. You're a nice partner for leave excursions, Zhen'var. And friend." In that moment, Fei'nur didn't even stop to think for a moment what Zhen'var had once been. It had passed completely beyond her.

"Much the same, Fei'nur. Shall we linger a bit longer, or begin heading to our lodging for the evening? I confess a sonic shower sounds _wonderful_ at present."

Fei'nur snapped another Tri-D image and grinned. "We'll go for sonic showers. I could stay, but then I'd have less time for other interesting things. Let's go!"


	35. Episode 7 Act 2

**Act 2**

The temple of Amilra at Kelumar sat deep in a rain-drenched forest. Daria put on the robes of the temple, as was required for an initiate visiting it, and hiked the six kilometres in from the railhead. To her it was a light walk, as she had made many longer both in the service and in her training, or even in scouts in her childhood. Still, it was a chance with the rain dripping down onto her massive, wide-brimmed conical hat, to reflect on her renewed service.

Fighting the Cybermen had been to play with dark ones. Unstoppable, relentless, devoted to inflicting an evil fate worse than death on all sapient life, they had ground the crew of the _Aurora_ down into nothing. It was natural, the priestesses had said, that for someone with any of the power at all, that, seeing as it had not manifested in childhood, it manifested then.

Then the Daleks had come. Everything that they thought they had faced as the worst that could be put against them was instantly redoubled. It could, and did, get worse. It very much didn't stop. Daria stopped, standing on a natural log bridge over a creek, and minded her balance for a moment, as the thought had been so distracting and uncomfortable. She wondered how anyone else had managed to avoid going mad. How they all seemed to be going on with their careers.

To face training after that had been a true struggle, a struggle about becoming at peace with a universe which permitted the very nature of things to be unbalanced, unsettled, cruel and ill as few things were to imagine. Growing in the powers of the Mother, learning the power of the Goddess, it was like returning to the depths to contrast her love with the ill they had faced.

She quietly carried on past the hewn, mossy log and back onto damp ground of well-trod thick mulched soil. Her homeworld was at peace with itself and she could feel the life in every rock. That sense of growing strong in her connection to the multiverse carried her on to the vast temple of Amilra, with the Hall of Infinity stretching out over a massive rock-hewn outcropping and the great, sweeping arches supporting high curved-peaked roofs towering over hall and lodge, looming abruptly from the trees of the forest, where the falling of water around it obscured the sound of singing until the moment one was upon it.

Gliding into the temple, surrounded by other Dorei voices of women lifting their hearts to the Almighty, she felt perfectly calm as she approached the halls of the Matrias, and disrobed at the temple baths to cleanse herself before entering them.

Honoured Matria Rivalana was waiting for her in her cell, contemplating a half-finished calligraphic painting. "Child, I am thankful for your return. I will not ask you to continue your studies; I too have seen your course."

"Thank you, Matria. I confess, it is hard. My shipmates are not what anyone would expect. Some of them have, I think, committed crimes in the past."

"Do you think they serve the principles of the Alliance now?" The Honoured Matria looked archly.

"Unambiguously so, Matria. Even from one who walks with a pallor about them does righteous and heroic deeds in the service of the Alliance come."

"Life is a journey. We are children of the light, _daughter,_ " she said, allowing the more intimate term for an Initiate of the Goddess. "Some are not so fortunate…. In ancient times there are tales of them. Dark Ones who could still reason…"

"Oh, it's nothing like that! Mercenaries, commandos, killers. Not …. That."

"Daughter, the difference is only in the power with which they were born," the Matria replied. "It's more than that anyway, is it not?"

"The Dilgar dominate the ship, as well as veterans of sterner services. They are harder in how they approach their duties and challenges. Sometimes I feel… Put upon to walk in a direction I should rather not. The Captain's expectations are high, and I have let her down."

"Do you really think their resort to violence is evil? The laws of the Alliance exist precisely to prevent it."

"No, Matria. I don't think they do wrong. But in the heat of the moment, I wish to err to the side of Good.

"They err to the side of action, do they not, and order? Consider, daughter, the soldiers marching through the village to protect it. Still, they form, as tight as the teeth of a comb. Their file-closers are stern, their officers arrogant. Yet without the order, they would break. Nothing our Mother gives comes free. The Harmony of the universe would otherwise be lost. You know that, Daughter."

"You once opposed this path for me, Matria."

"Our Mother moves in strange ways to perform her wonders. I have seen you on that ship, daughter. Take courage, they value you more than you realise. And you are more needed than you realise."

Daria's eyes widened. As usual, the insight was there. It was her wondering if she was valued from whence grew the suspicion. She bowed her head and made the pentacle.

"Rest with us, Daughter. But return to your 'white ship' confident in your friends. There is a plan… Though I know it not yet. There is a plan."

* * *

Perhaps it was too much to assume that a Captain could really spend 84 hours on Libo without receiving some kind of call or other notification that something had gone wrong. Fortunately, Zhen'var had already gotten a full night's sleep by the time her omnitool, on the side of her bed, was insistently chirping with the chirp that meant it was from the _Huáscar_.

 _Oh Divine, what is it now…_ " _Huáscar_ Actual here, go ahead." She was still groggy, but waking up quickly as she hit the audio-only response key and pulled on her omnitool.

"Captain, it's Will. The Minister of Security of the Dorei Federation is personally on the line for you and she is _not happy._ She's, uh, very upset about some kind of security alert that she's accusing our people of having triggered."

" _Oh no_ , what… give me one minute, I shall take the visual. Thank you, Commander." Rolling out of bed, she hissed at the feeling of a brush roughly ripping knots and tangles from her hair, before pulling on her uniform quickly. She counted fifty-seven seconds before she tapped ' _Ready to Connect'._

A blue-and-purple spotted Dorei woman in what passed for a business suit among the Dorei appeared on the screen. "Captain Zhen'var. What is wrong with your crew? They generated a terrorist nexus assessed as a threat against government stability by the central intelligence database computers with no less than _one thousand, three hundred and sixty-seven_ iSee reports in the space of two days!"

Her face _barely_ managed to stay calm, when she wanted to gape in shock at the receiver, until her train of thought caught up to her reaction. It still came out a bit lame to her ears. "Madame Minister… they _are_ Dilgar."

"Well, what, so are you? Our computers alerted us to a potential terrorist incident at the space-port, but they're just filled with all of these reports that are ridiculous… Like 'suspected treason, I overheard a person criticizing the Alliance President'."

"The discipline of the Dilgar starfleet, which more than half my crew has come from, Madame Minister, is such that the pre-liberty briefing, which as I believe you know, includes much emphasis on the use of the iSee application…" She looked sheepish. "The standard briefing includes a reminder that failure to report is cause for a Captain's Mast. Dilgar military discipline is _extraordinarily_ strict by Alliance standards."

"You're telling me… But they reported things like casual political debates between bar patrons, Captain!" The woman looked _incredibly_ flustered, like Daria caught out.

"Our own democratic development is still within the _earliest_ stages that the Alliance permits associates to have, Madame Minister. They will report _anything_ that _might_ fall under any of the iSee catagories… exactly as the briefing animations tell our people to do."

"But _nobody_ does that, Captain!"

"A Dilgar rating does, Madame Minister." There was a hint of long-suffering patience in Zhen'var's tone.

"...You're telling me… They just _didn't know any better_?"

"Incredible discipline and an indescribable naivety about the norms of the multiverse are the baseline for my people at present, I fear. I apologise for the alarm and confusion caused by such strict adherence to instructions."

"...If we hadn't been relying on the programming of the automated system, it wouldn't have triggered automatic alerts," she answered after a moment. "It is a legitimate fault you've found, Captain. It seems even though individual iSee reports were weighted low, the sheer number made the computer erroneously claim there was an imminent threat."

"Perhaps thankfully, there is only one Dilgar-crewed multi-versal starship, Madame Minister. As a temporary solution, perhaps secondary pre-processing of reports from _Huáscar-_ flagged omnitools… but such is your field of expertise, ma'am."

She flexed her ears. "Very well. It's clearly a programming vulnerability to false alarms we need to address. But do you crewers… Really, that many reports, Captain? There were fourteen omnitools that sent more than three dozen _each._ "

Zhen'var half-mumbled; "Likely from my newest Marine company, they are relatively newly-arrived from Tira, Madame Minister." _This is_ ** _not_** _going well._

The woman sighed. "Very well, Captain. Please see to it that they learn some important lessons about our democratic freedoms."

 _That isn't going to go well at all._ "I understand, Madame Minister. I shall add it to the ship's ongoing education programmes."

With a huff, the Minister nodded. "That is all, Captain Zhen'var. The alert is cancelled and we will have staff manually filter the iSee alerts until further notice." With that, her image blinked off the screen.

Letting out a long sigh, Zhen'var flopped back onto her bed. "Commander, you caught all that, yes?"

"Yes I did, Sir." Will rubbed his head. "How… How do I deal with that?" He finally admitted his helplessness in a sheepish expression.

"Form a study group of NCOs to add it to the ship's ongoing education programmes, of course. If we are fortunate, the matter will be forgotten before the next round of Strategic Learning Initiatives is handed down."

Will groaned. "And how do we actually keep the ratings from doing it again, Captain?"

"Find some movies about representative government that Dilgar will find interesting." The smile couldn't be hidden from her voice.

"...But most of them will think that representative governments need to know about traitors, too. Our sailors are good people, Ma'am." He was grinning wryly.

"Ones with a _Loyal Opposition_ , Commander. Surely in the Multiverse there must be enough of those, do you think?"

"...Actually, with how bad filmmakers are at representing democratic dissent, I'm not so sure."

Zhen'var's sigh was loud enough to nearly cause feedback over the omnitool link. "I will worry about it when my leave is over, Commander. If that is all?"

"Ma'am." Will tipped a salute.

* * *

Arterus had known Duty his entire life, as governed by Mnhei'sahe, even when exiled from the Rihannsu Empire and the Starfleet, he had known that he was a Prince of the Imperial Family and that his duty to his cousin mattered. So he didn't think much by spending almost two days traveling at high warp out to a rendezvous at an asteroid trading post on a third-rate liner, though he did pay for a first class cabin to make it relaxing.

There, on the edge of Dorei space, the _Far Star_ had quietly docked. Heavily armed ships were less welcome deep into civilised sectors and space. Even just seeing the Orion ship, which Lial had already heavily modified, made his heart soar.

Lial wore a cloak to conceal her appearance and her old-style uniform, with the hood up, but he recognised his cousin the moment he stepped out of the liner, and the exiled Princess and rightful ruler of the Rihannsu spun her relative into an embrace. "Elements, my blood, you look well, and I am thankful."

"Cousin, I owe you much for your encouragement to join the Alliancers. This crew I have found myself on is worth its water, the Dilgar…"

"Are a good fit for us," Lial finished with a smile, reaching out and taking Arterus' hand and leading him through the station. "Shai'jhur is like one of the great Mothers of the Ship-Clans of ch'Havran, it is a shame their people fell so, but they dared their Gods and paid the price for it."

"Sometimes I fear we Rihannsu have done the same," Arterus shrugged. "Still, you are right. Captain Zhen'var, Colonel Fei'nur, I am very honoured to work with them."

They boarded the _Far Star,_ and with partial armour in uniform, clenched fists held high, the guards interrupted them, until Lial made the countersign. "Those off the ship must be in civilian dress and cloaks, I broke that a little, but aboard we follow the old ways."

"Are the crew mostly of us?" He asked, carrying on in English lest it bleed over to them as they walked.

"Mostly, but of course, many from lost colonies who have never known the Empire. Many half-breeds and such too. I have met a very brave woman of that extraction who has her own outfit, and I have taken into service some of the people she works with and rescues, who are more suited for me than to her. She is half-Japanese, and in the days before the Federationers forgot so much of who they were, their honour was ken to our own. I believe she also has contacts with the Tal Shiar, but is controlled by none."

"Double games turn the blade of the knife into you soon enough, cousin," Arterus answered with concern as they arrived at Lial's tiny, three-room suite, just enough for Lial to settle down in with a table.

"I know, but you cannot avoid it when you play this game. It is a game that requires risks and trusts which a normal person, secure in her halls and the loyalty of her blood, would not seek out."

"You do not speak these words without meaning," Arterus frowned.

"You are correct, I do not, our friend will be arriving… Right about now." The door chimed, as Arterus' eyes narrowed.

A similar figure with a cloak tossed over a spacer's set of overhauls and jumpsuit in black strode in, with a guard on each shoulder who saluted.

Lial returned the fist, rising. "Miss Corday," she said politely.

"Your Majesty," the woman tossed the hood of her cloak back and bowed, her boots clopping together gently in an old, old gesture, her hair tightly pinned back, gray-silver-platinum on otherwise youthful body, eyes… That shade like no other.

"Cousin…" He said, a bit darkly.

"She saved our lives, Arterus, I would give her shelter to the bitter winds of the fate her people deserves."

Before departing, one of the guards placed Aafvun'in'hhui from the replicator and bread on the table, and the woman smiled fondly as she sat, crossing her legs. "I understand the initial distaste, and don't think it ingratitude for the past, my dear friend Prince Arterus," she continued in a slightly wheedling speech, eyes levelly on Lial.

"Some introductions are in order for the current circumstance," Lial smiled.

"Of course. So, Charlotte Corday is an alias, but you all knew that when I gave it to you." She said something of the exchange with Lial before. "You may call me Danaine Taruar. And I am here _officially,_ as a personal emissary of His Majesty, Jaibriol Qox the Third of His Name. We have _much_ to discuss."

* * *

 _Am I Sayla or Artesia?_ That was something that was hard for her accept at this point in her life. She had enlisted under the actual spelling of her stepfather's name, _de Más,_ instead of the Mass she had used in the Earth forces, but she had taken back her given birth name of Artesia. Like as not, though, she'd find it easier to answer to Sayla. What did that mean to her identity?

Flopping onto the bed of her resort hotel room she turned on the tri-dee with a gently content sigh while she interfaced the hotel website with her omnitool to order a maniped and reserve a massage. Artesia took no shame in being a perfectly normal girl as well as a fighter pilot and honestly, the temptation of dancing and maybe just going on an idle date or two with no intention of anything serious sounded very strong at the moment. The tri-dee was more for mindless noise in the background than anything else.

Abandoning the omnitool, she rolled over to activate the comp-pad she had as a personal item, updating and interfacing with the network. There was the usual personal information-bills for the apartment she was renting that she hadn't visited since she was assigned to _Huáscar_ , ads and pointless adverts-as well as an update from the bank account her brother had set up for her. It was a significant sum of money that kept increasing, but she hadn't touched it. She had her own, a much smaller amount, that came from her Alliance salary.

Artesia pursed her lips and rolled over on the bed. She could go back "home" to a place she hadn't been since she was a small child-Zeon-and instantly be a noblewoman. People would grumble, but her brother was The Red Comet, would any turn against him for welcoming her back when she had fought against the opposite side? _Well, possibly, actually._ Her mind flickered back to the tumult and chaos of the rise of Zeon and she winced, remembering the bombings and poisonings.

Even without those lingering threats, she still wouldn't have gone back. She was wedded to the _Huáscar_ now. The dead in the fight over the _de Trier_ had seared the squadron together just their losses had bonded them on the _White Base._ And she had sought that out again. At an intellectual level, Sayla knew that wasn't necessarily healthy. Artesia… Wanted it anyway. But the burning need to prove herself had been finally quieted.

She pushed herself up and started changing into a cocktail dress, unpacking her libo bag as she did. Wandering into the bathroom to check her appearance, she headed down to the line of cabanas behind the hotel bar next to the massive set of pools that was nearly a water-park, with scantily clad Dorei waitresses in abundance. It was a dive that catered to foreign tourists, and she liked it that way. A massive pair of sunglasses firmly set on her face, she got herself something that called itself a mojhito using a local equivalent to mint, and found an open spot at a cabana. The surf was rolling in, and at least for a little while, as she gathered her thoughts and let the memory of the fight at the _de Trier_ fade from her mind, the alien birds, the alien music, the very familiar scene of tourists, it all blended together, and that was just all right.

She couldn't help but have her thoughts drift back to Elia Saumarez and Abebech Imra. Elia, who saw Artesia as one of her own, and Abebech, who… Probably did. Elia's blushing embarrassment for her bare hands made her rather self-conscious about them sometimes. Even now, she spared a glance down at them. _Isn't that the truth of life? It was forced on them, and now they enforce it on themselves._ Abebech, though. Abebech… There was no reason for her to wear gloves, though there were rumours from the _de Trier_ that she had basically taken out an entire company of troops single-handedly. Everyone knew about her codes that had let her take the ship, now.

But she was a woman, like any other; she smiled when they interacted. Artesia even felt that her newtype senses, attuned somewhat differently than those of a Psi-Corps telepath, could make out a fond affection. The same that, despite the standoffishness, she had for Elia.

Artesia shook her head, and brought up an image of her brother and Lalah on her slimline, nightclub styled omnitool. It showed them on a balcony somewhere in Zeon, waving to an adoring crowd. To them he was as much Char Aznable as he was Zeon Zum Deikun's son. To Lalah Sune, he was a lover and husband now. Together they made a glamorous couple. They would be leading Zeon into a peaceful future, Artesia hoped-together. They deserved it. Zeon deserved it. The old dichotomy for the Spacenoids was broken; Zeon, Riah, and the Earth Federation ruling the remaining 'Sides could all prosper together.

Artesia wasn't really sure what _she_ deserved. She thought of Abebech, and the wild stories from the _de Trier._ Of what she _had_ seen, of the girl, River, in her crisp white uniform with black trim. Somehow, Newtypes had a history. _Not so new,_ she thought, wondering if she should get a Mai-Tai next, or maybe head down to the beach. She was not depressed, just acutely aware of her own lack of belonging. By working to make peace between Zeon and the Federation and save both her brother and Ray, she had taken this course voluntarily, but she had walked it nonetheless.

With a gentle little sigh, feeling airy, Artesia got up and adjusted her sunglasses, preparing to wander over to the open air bar. Everything about the place was exactly what you wanted in a beach resort, and the bar was surrounded by lush, soft, smooth tones of some local music. She felt it sounded a little like _bossa nova._ Settling at the bar, she mused about being adventureous and decided against it. "A Mai-Tai, please."

Next to her at the bar, two brown-burnt human men were conversing with the relative anonymity of the vacation and the omnipresent sunglasses.

"Heh, I live on New Rauchmer. Same sector. We've got the same Senator, don't we? What's his name? Ro…"

"Rosati." The second guy was staring intently at his Margarita. "You thinkin' what I've been thinkin' about?"

"His speech about the dangers of telepathy and all these metaphysical powers? Yeah. The 'dangers of living in a comic book', right?"

"Just right, man."

A certain wryly intolerant expression of immaturity in others briefly flickered across her face, but then she tamped it down. No reason to get involved. The liquor, though, was reminding Artesia of just how much their words applied to her. It enabled a certain ill-discipline of the mind, loosened inhibitions and made them stronger. Newtype abilities had begun to manifest in different ways, but Artesia could certainly reach out and feel their thoughts and fears.

Their fears that right now, someone was doing that and more, much more, to their minds, even as they talked about the need to … " _Find some way of dealing with these dudes, maybe like that Psi-Corps thing. Gotta have a law about it."_

 _Gotta have a law about it._ Artesia looked down at her bare hands. Elia wore those gloves so that nobody had any doubt at all about what she was. She was courageous because she refused to hide herself. Even here, the sentiment seemed to be one laced with real suspicion. _Sayla wouldn't stay quiet._

She got out of her chair and grabbed her drink in her left hand, holding her right for emphasis. "Telepaths and other sensitives are people just like you, they just want to have normal lives like you do. You want to throw them all in boxes and think those regulations will protect you and that you can forget about it. That's the exact opposite of what we need, which is virtue. If we cultivate virtue then you won't have to fear the powers of others and they won't be afraid of you, either, because everyone will treat each other with respect. You can't have a republic without virtue, and when you lose it, you become a totalitarianism. It doesn't matter what the final form is, once the virtue is gone, it's a joke. And you'll lose it the moment you start passing laws like that, that you stop thinking of your fellow citizens as people and start thinking of them as threats. Your beliefs might be casual, but they are a poison to freedom, and if you're repeating what a Senator said, then I'm afraid for the Alliance that we have such people in the Senate."

The two men were taken aback, staring at her. She stared back.

"What the hell do you think you know about these powers, girl? They're capable of seeing everything you've ever thought, telling you what to do.. And you feel comfortable with that?"

"In orbit right now there are twenty Alliance starships, any one of which could override an authentication and level these city with two hundred megaton solar torpedoes. That's a very scary power, isn't it? What are you going to do about it? I think most people trust the _virtue_ of the people in the armed forces. How is that any different? It's not."

"How do you know that?"

"I am one," she answered, taking a sip from her Mai-Tai. "An officer, and a telepath. And a classy woman, I might add, not a girl."

For the moment there was a completely, dangerously real confrontation. But the two men saw something in her eyes. They were not the eyes of a random blonde at a resort bar. The two men beat a retreat.

As they did, a Dilgar came padding up behind her. "Leftenant, do you need any help?"

Artesia turned in surprise, and then laughed. "No, Spacer, it's all fine," she answered, seeing the group of five more Dilgar behind him who were getting up from their chairs. Apparently the cheap drinks and chance to sunbathe had lured them to the same place. Grinning and shaking her head, she reflected on what would have happened if one of the _officers_ had gotten into the Chief's handcuffs, and then headed over to the table to impose herself on her shipmates. It just felt warmer at the moment.

* * *

When Nah'dur had received her invitation, she had very nearly bubbled over. The giant bay filled with floating bazaars and homes and unusual rock formations sounded like a positively splendid place to capture tri-dee images, and spent time with her elder sister, and most of all, Fei'nur. She had not taken a vacation in quite some time, and affixed her backpack and hiking gear and sun visored cap with neck flap and all the other things which made her look like a proper explorer, and then headed to the transporter room to beam down for the rendezvous point. _If Wrex is right, I'll have to be much more careful with shore leaves after this,_ she thought to herself.

A moment later, she was near the maglev stop which led to the beginnings of the interlocking ferry and boardwalk routes which traversed the bay, her giant sunglasses proudly settled onto her face.

 _Oh dear gods, she looks…_ Fei'nur's thoughts didn't reach her face, at least. "Nah'dur!" The commando waved, Nah'dur's elder sister beside her, both still in their Alliance uniforms.

"Fei'nur! Zhen'var!" She took a few bounds over, grinning. "Have you been having fun without me? It was very quiet on the Huáscar, since nobody's come back from shore leave yet."

"That has not stopped me from getting work comms, even so." Zhen'var was smiling as she reached out for a quick hug of her youngest sister.

"Oh, that's such a bother. What about girlfriend comms?"

" _Nah'dur!"_ Zhen'var looked momentarially mortified. "I have been… I… no, but…" The subject could leave the woman's normally quite formal speech tied up in knots.

"Have you been faithfully sending her pictures, hmm?" Nah'dur grinned chipperly and saddled over to stand close to Fei'nur.

" _Occasionally_ we have short vid-chats, but…" Zhen'var trailed off as Fei'nur scanned the area around them reflexively.

"Well, are we to get aboard one of the ferries now, then?" Nah'dur asked, her eyes behind the sunglasses scanning everywhere, and obligingly taking her tri-dee imager to take pictures of various flocking crowds of Dorei.

"Indeed we are, Nah'dur. Please, stay close to one or both of us." With the young doctor there, Fei'nur's professional wariness was on full display as Zhen'var started to lead the group along the street.

Nah'dur really didn't mind a suggestion to stay as close to Fei'nur as possible, and promptly did so as they headed down to one of the small, open ferry terminals which shuttled people about the bay and got in line to board.

Fei'nur looked down at the auburn-haired doctor with a flash of long-accustomed resignation, before shaking it off, as Zhen'var presented herself at the ticket booth. "Three day passes, please."

"You can get a family pass for the two of you and your daughter for only half the price," the Dorei woman behind the counter offered cheerfully.

Fei'nur barely kept a smile off her face, as Zhen'var's face froze in a look of surprise. "Ah… well, we are family, yes..." _Nah'dur explosion when she hears about this? Inevitable._

The major delay suffered was by the fact that Nah'dur was distracted taking tri-d images of the boats. She jerked her head up abruptly and stared, words half processed. "But-but, _Zhen'var,_ we are… Fei'nur!" The busy lady behind the ticket counter didn't even miss a beat, handing the ticket over to Zhen'var and calling "Next!"

Ushering them on, Zhen'var started giggling as soon as they were on the way down the gangway. "We _are_ family, Nah'dur… and…" Impishly, she used her omnitool drone to snap a holo of the three of them. "You can see the reason, can you not?"

"But I want Fei'nur!"

" _Nah'dur_ …" the Spectre in question let out a softly warning growl.

Nah'dur abruptly grinned. "All right, all right. You're my mother now, and I suppose that means I shall just have to be an Islander."

"Nah'dur!" Zhen'var sounded scandalized, as Fei'nur rolled her eyes.

"Oh, oh, all right." A sigh, and she took out her tri-dee again. "Look! I can really see some of the rock pinnacles, and they even have palm trees on-top… There must be lots of nesting places for birds. I wonder if we shall see many."

"The colourful ones are always so fascinating to look at." Fei'nur offered, as she leaned down to look closer. "Sea-birds, I'd think, there would be plenty? Unless birds here are nocturnal, but I don't think they are."

"I think that hardy likely… Ooh, I think I spotted one, come, here, see, Fei'nur.." Nah'dur had been thoroughly distracted, and forgotten the earlier comment. That was also Nah'dur.

Leaning in, the elder Dilgar looked to the viewfinder. Zhen'var mentally let out a soft sigh of relief. _Never change too much, little sister._

They did, all things said, look very much like a family, clustered together on the deck as they approached one of the great rock-towers and a massive cluster of floating homes and barges around it.

They _were_ a family, to Captain Zhen'var's eyes, and she leaned on the railing, letting her eyes roam. "It is utterly beautiful…" _And so is having friends and family as this._

* * *

After everyone else had gone on leave, the _Heermann_ 's crew, with all the repair work and integration to do, was finally getting their own. Abebech had given a succinct and terse Libo brief which gave no doubts of her expectation for her crew, and then changed into mufti and fallen in with her officers heading down to the surface.

"What are you plans, Leftenant?" She would ask abruptly of Ca'elia as they walked.

 _Is this a trap?_ Flitted through her thoughts, as the young Dilgar turned her head sharply. "I… am not sure, Captain. New Eden and Tira didn't prepare me well for liberty taken planetside."

"I had thought as much," Abebech answered. "You did an excellent job aboard these past days. The rest of the crew is fairly well sorted out, but I was a bit concerned that… If I may be indelicate, you might be feeling a bit lost. Well, I am heading off on my own, but I can point you in the right direction first if you'd like."

"I would much appreciate that, Captain!" Her enthusiasm was visible, and immediate. "It's not indelicate at all, if it's true!" Her wide green eyes looked up at Abebech with keen interest.

"Well, I suppose it is," Abebech laughed wryly. "I'm going to Deramom, which is commonly held to be the second city of Doreia, though it isn't a usual tourist destination. We'll get you sorted out and off on some package tour you'll find interesting, or you can figure out how to do explore yourself.." She moved to stand on the transporter next with the Leftenant at her side, eyes as sunglassed as ever.

"Well, if it's the _right_ sort of package tour, ma'am…" Reflexively, she stiffened to parade rest, wearing her uniform. Most all of the Dilgar were. The pre-liberty briefing had suggested it, after all.

"What are you interested in?" Abebech asked, carrying through the teleportation effect from ship to surface, where they materialised under the sun. Abebech grimced, popping an old-fashioned parasol open that went very well with her traditional Ethiopian dress.

"Oh, everything, really. I love seeing new things, ma'am, and I love _adventure_ … _legal_ adventure, ma'am! I'd planned to meet up with Aur'ma, but our leave blocks don't overlap this time, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry you couldn't spend time with your sister," Abebech answered with the casual comfort of a veteran of urban areas as she navigated their way to a tram and hopped on.

"It happens. We're fortunate enough to be part of a married pair of ships already, Captain." Natural agility allowed her to keep up, but Ca'elia's experience with cities had only begun when she'd joined the Alliance service.

"Do you have any preference at all about what you'd like to see?" Abebech glanced at her omnitool on one arm as she used the other to hang onto a strap.

"I read many grand human adventure novels… Hornblower, for instance, one of the officers was kind enough to leave a set for our library."

"Did you know Commander Saumarez is also a great fan of those novels?"

"I… can see it, ma'am, but I haven't had much chance to talk to her. She's the Operations Officer, I'm just the lead helm."

"You are an up-and-coming Leftenant, Ca'elia. We are all officers, you must be able to dare to make friendships up. Mentors and guides are a necessary part of a career."

"Is that what you're encouraging me to develop _now_ , ma'am? If I could be an officer half as skilled as you are.. If you will permit me to be informal, Captain!"

"I think you can be such an officer. Perhaps more than half as skilled, if you bear in mind that much of what I do is experience. That is, indeed, exactly what I am encouraging."

"I will try and reach out to her then, ma'am, and anything you ever have to offer a young officer such as I, I am most keenly interested to learn…"

"I like educating others in how to be successful at our profession, Leftenant. I regard it as one of my jobs as Captain," she smiled, almost shyly, with her glasses and her parasol tucked under an arm while in the relative cover of the train car, flipping up when she led them off again.

"I am very grateful, ma'am." The Dilgar woman's green eyes blinked widely as they debarked, taking in the area around.

It was a relatively run down neighborhood comparatively, but in the distance there gleamed the golden spire of a Dorei temple to the Great Mother. "This is the Temple of Alaminat, it has a unique custom around it, which is that anyone, no matter who or what they are, is welcome to worship. It's said to be the place that the great sage Theremi Sarinteriya found a devil praying for mercy because it wished to be more than it had been created to be. So she blessed it and built a temple on the spot where the priests will turn away no-being, for anything, and they are safe as long as they remain. Under Dorei law, even a war criminal can find shelter in those walls if they do not leave them and do not cause trouble in them."

"Sanctuary, as the humans would call it… is there a specific reason we are going there, ma'am? I understand the virtue of such a place, there were even such places on Omelos, they tell me." _I suppose I wasn't expecting leave here, but… it certainly is_ ** _new._** _I wonder what sort of people there are there?_

"Oh, I just wanted to visit it," Abebech answered. "My hotel is nearby. I will go to it later. I intend to get you set on your vacation first. You still haven't yet related to me what you actually want to do, Leftenant."

"I don't truly know, I fear, ma'am. All I did on Tira was get a small sailboat and break her in, a little, my house is barely even finished. Certainly no tourist cruise would be anything but unbearable, but this planet is _exhilarating_ to see first-hand."

"Hmm." Abebech was heading toward a hotel which was a bit shabby now, but once had clearly catered to interstellar business travelers. She started tapping on her omnitool. "The largest sea near here is anaerobic and it seems unlike humanity, the Dorei didn't love bottom-feeding fish so much as to destroy all the wrecks with trawling. They offer a submarine shipwreck tour over a couple of days, would that excite your interest?" She shot the information off to Ca'elia's omnitool with a fond and almost motherly smile creeping into play below her glasses.

"Oh! That sounds wonderful, ma'am! Mayhaps a bit maudlin, but certainly! _Thank you_ , Captain!" She tapped through the omnitool with an eager grin.

"Well, you can do it a day at a time, so if you want to see something else, you can follow up recommendations from the tour submarine docent," Abebech offered, and waved a hand around. "This planet is grand. With luck, you will leave wishing you had more time on it; that means it was worth it."

"I shall take the advice to heart, Captain. I hope you enjoy your leave as well, if you'll permit." She stiffened, not saluting her superior while Abebech was in civilian clothes. "I shall stop taking time from it."

"Thank you, but I think it was time well spent… And I assure you, Leftenant, I will. What else am I going to spend it on? Have a good leave, Leftenant." Abebech wandered off toward the hotel entrance, that smile still on her lips.

* * *

Libo had passed, and the crew returned in varying states of functionality. There had only been two barfights and the Captain's Mast list was only twenty-three long… "Which considering the cultural issues with the crew is totally an excellent result," Chief Dugan continued with a kind of perfect mock cheerfulness. "The critical thing is, NO HEADLINES and NO HOSPITALS. We did get some handcuffs, but the crew's just rough, ma'am. Most of 'em were over that station-side barfight last night and the crew of the _Minkoma_ started it to be honest. There were just a couple of Dilgar who didn't understand that using chairs to beat people with was not an appropriate escalation."

Around the table, the usual mugs of coffee and tea were steaming. The ship's senior officers were settling back in their routines, all of them from Zhen'var and Fei'nur and Will down to Violeta. The crew of the _Heermann_ wasn't present, due to their abbreviated Libo Zhen'var was letting them stay out until the very last minute, they could prep the _Heermann_ en route to their next destination inside the bay. There were still bleary eyes as they were all catching up, but Chief Dugan had more to say.

"Now, I've got one case to bring to the attention of the ship's officers to try and figure out what to do. Private Lak'kar in the 15th Assault Company," referring to the fresh Dilgar unit brought onboard to beef up their ground troops, "filed an iSee report which led to the successful apprehension of a pimp trafficking runaway alien teenagers at an illegal spaceport brothel. But he also filed a total of fifty-three other iSee reports including on how someone complaining about the President's Agricultural Trade policy was conspiring to overthrow the government."

Zhen'var impassively sipped at her chai. "So the local security minister wished to tell me… personally… at dawn… on leave. We are apparently responsible for a local imminent terrorist activity alert due to our crew's… _enthusiastic_ interpretation of the Libo brief." She gave Chief Dugan a thoroughly deadpan look.

"Well, Ma'am, maybe we should just tell 'em they programmed their computer wrong."

"Already done, Chief, but I fear I must ask you to increase the rotation of _Your Government and You_ targeted service insertions on the ship intranet to the Dilgar crewers from the Union."

"You mean the ones that talk about the government in a way that a six year old could understand?"

" _Unfortunately_." Zhen'var replied in a very long-suffering tone, as she took another deep draught from her mug.

"But those go out to _everyone_!" Anna protested.

"Then _write a targeting schema_ , but it _is_ a requirement, unless you truly want an Inspectorate General investigative agent to come aboard in response to local government complaints." The Captain looked like she was nursing a massive headache already.

"Yes, Captain."

"We'll get 'em up there, right alongside 'Black Ice, Not Nice.'" Rick had an utterly massive grin under his mustache.

"Thank you. Next item on the agenda; we have our next set of orders. Commander Saumarez, if you would kindly begin the briefing, please."

Elia rose and activated the projector. "Fellow officers, we have received orders to deploy to Universe A2M6 to provide peacekeeping support for a negotiated withdrawal of League of Democratic Worlds forces from the planet Garatnam which they were occupying as a colony, and have recently agreed with Alliance negotiation to grant independence to after a long and extremely brutal insurgency with the Numeraian, the indigenous insectoid species. The objective is to use our onboard forces to prevent terrorist attacks on League units during the final two weeks of the withdrawal when they have pulled enough troops off the planet that they can no longer secure the installations that the remainder of their personnel are in without help."

"I note _Huáscar_ appears to be developing a speciality in putting Colonel Fei'nur and her ground troops in-between people with weapons who want to kill each other." Zhen'var remarked, leaning back in her chair.

"Because of how the agreement between our governments formed out the ground complement, we have much more troops than the average explorer," Lar'shan answered. "It will also press the wing heavily on overwatch."

"I do not think we are going to be able to get Dartfighters as easily as an assault company; what do you need, Commander? It will be two weeks of very high tempo operations, it is true, we cannot show any sign of weakness."

"See if we can't take on spare drop-tanks, Captain," he answered. "And increase the store of air-to-ground munitions and atmospheric capable surveillance drones." He glanced to Fei'nur, who so far hadn't spoken about the mission. "I'll defer the rest to the Colonel."

"We will be overstretched. We still have our full war complement of troops and equipment, but given the mission, I do not regard the situation as optimal, nor calming. I intend an agile deployment, with limited static tripwire forces with heavy air and surveillance support, backed by larger reaction forces with pre-cleared transport areas. Command continues to under-estimate the level of troops and equipment required for _presence_ operations as this, which can quickly deteriorate… especially, as, Commander, A2M6 remains dangerously tense, does it not?"

"Yes it does. We are warned that the Aururians regularly patrol regularly close to the border there and they have funded, extensively, the armed movement on Garatnam, including covert provision of guns and arms, but since this is a withdrawal, they were rated unlikely to intervene."

"Whom-ever made that rating has not looked into the universe very closely. They have a pattern - the Banyuwangi Doctrine, which is spelled out in several of their academic journals. The simple form of it is, 'One who supports the breaking a state is responsible for the actions of their agents in so doing.' Commander Saumarez."

Everyone was staring at Fei'nur. 'Colonel Muscles' had just said something worthy of an academic professor. Nah'dur barely avoided clapping her hands together in a gesture of adoration, which was really quite valiant of her.

Elia smiled. "Thank you for the explanation, Colonel. I actually agree with you. It's foolish to assume that there's going to be no intervention. They will try to manage the aftermath."

"' _If you break it, you bought it',_ would be the the human colloquialism." She looked to Chief Dugan. "That was a correct use, yes?"

"Better than some humans use it, Ma'am," he grinned.

"Wonderful. It means I will be requesting, though I do not expect to receive it, sufficient reinforcements to turn the breakthrough armour company into an assault armour company. A planetary garrison support unit, too, but, alas. We will like, as not, have to make do. That Empire is one of the more militaristic unfriendly neutrals we have encountered, I remind us all. Is there any further intelligence?"

"Yes," Elia answered drolly. "You'll love this. It's just a note that part of the agreement for the League's withdraw required us to work with them to eliminate a major drug trafficking and production network on the planet associated with the liberation movement."

Fei'nur put her face in her hands. "Gods preserve us. Thank you, Commander."

Zhen'var's expression had become studiously blank. "I believe I should sign off on your request for further reinforcements, Colonel. We are to work to eliminate a major drug network, which is associated with the new government, with the former colonial overlords… very well, we have our work cut out for us. So we have been charged, so we shall accomplish."

"It doesn't really seem like the Foreign Ministry was taking this one seriously when they negotiated it," Anna groused.

"They decide, we execute," Arterus shook his head. "It will be a messy business."

"We've dealt with worse already," Elia reminded them with a smile. "We'll make it work, because we're _Huáscarenos_."

"Yes, El'sau, but they _got_ worse. This one is _starting_ off at almost that level, _before_ it degenerates." Fei'nur remarked, already starting to sketch out requisitions on her data-slate.

"Well, at least the Aururians are rational…"

"And more dangerous for it. Finish your preparations, everyone. Commander Saumarez, if you would stay after the others, please?"

"Of course, Captain." While the others filed out, Elia got herself another cup of Guernsey cream tea.

Without a word, Zhen'var slid a security chit across the table.

Elia looked at the chit, and then scanned it once she had confirmed it wasn't marked classified. "...Six hours a week of holodeck and no explanation, Captain?" Her dark eyes flashed surprise.

Zhen'var's teeth flashed as she smiled proudly at Elia. "I put in the request to Training and Development, and it was approved. You are hereby authorized and instructed to take Remote Learning Course 1062195, _Commanding Officer Development and Duty Certification_."

"...Command Officer School Prep?" Elia's eyes widened. "But I barely have any experience."

"You have a baton in your knapsack, El'sau, let none tell you otherwise. My reviews and Commander Imra's concurrence appear to have been sufficient to convince higher command."

"...Thank you, Captain. And I will thank Abebech as well. I am _truly honoured,_ and I will not let you down with your confidence in me. I hope I can soon follow from…" A sheepish grin, as she had to read the number, "RLC 1062195 to formal command school… Though I will miss being on the _Huáscar_ even a short time."

"Ah, but El'sau, I remind you that being command certified permits a brevet to independent command in an emergency at the discretion of local authority?" Her captain winked at her.

"And on _Huáscar,_ may that emergency never come. I like you and Will. And Abebech. But still, thank you. Ma'am!"

"Dismissed, Commander. And, El'sau? Good luck."


	36. Episode 7 Act 3

**Act 3**

The gray-green of Garatnam appeared before them as they dropped out of warp, the ship at Condition Yellow. A squadron of the slick warp-equipped cruisers of the League of Democratic Worlds orbited the planet as well as a civilian Gersallian courier.

"Announce our presence, comms. Bring us to orbit, Helm." Zhen'var watched the tactical displays. "Give me local scanning, tactical picture, please."

Under the chorus of acknowledgements, the new Petty Officer Remaria, a Dorei woman at comms, sent the message as Violeta settled them into orbit and Elia started scanning the planet.

"Responding transmission from the League flagship, Captain," Remaria reported.

"On the main display, please." Zhen'var leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap.

The white uniforms of the Admiral's staff and the flag-bridge of a League cruiser resolved before them with the Admiral standing in place. "Captain Zhen'var of the _Huáscar_?"

"That is correct, Admiral. We have arrived, as the withdrawal agreement requires." The Dilgar woman took in the bridge before her, scanning the League officers and their comportment.

"I am Admiral Pierre-Jacques Bonnet, Captain, aboard _Justicia_. We will need a meeting to coordinate the withdrawal as well as the operation to eliminate the _Hularya_ drug production. I will allow you to reach out to your negotiator before scheduling it. We will provide mutually supporting top cover as required."

"Of course, Admiral Bonnet. I thank you for the opportunity. We shall meeting shortly, I am sure." _They certainly seem professional, at least._

"Certainly, Captain. We will be waiting further communication. _Justicia_ out." The screen blinked clear with an already waiting message from the Gersallian courier standing by.

"Bring the courier on-screen, please. Let us hear what _they_ have to say." Zhen'var spoke over to the communications console, shifting in her command chair.

"This is Deputy Assistant Secretary for Peace Outreach Yulassana," the Gersallian woman, older with whisps of gray in her hair, introduced herself, wearing traditional Gersallian robes, as she resolved into view. "Thank you for your prompt arrival and correct introduction with Admiral Bonnet. I wish to transport aboard to discuss the situation on the planet with your command staff."

"I receive the idea with congeniality, ma'am. My transporter room will be standing by for your arrival, and I shall call a meeting of my officers."

* * *

A few minutes later, a CPO led Yulassana into Briefing Room 1, where the command staff was assembled to await.

The Captain was in her usual place at the head of the table, with the lectern swung out for the briefer, projector brought to stand-by, and the Dilgar woman nodded politely. "Secretary Yuassana. Welcome. My officers." She indicated the assemblage with a gesture of her hand. Each rose to introduce themselves in turn.

"Thank you, all," Yuassana offered before moving to sit. "I am pleased with the progress we have made here on Garatnam. It offers, perhaps, the first sign of a new direction for the League, and that may have great influence on the Alliance diplomatic posture in this universe. Your crew will be an important part of that."

"I am most keen, ma'am, to know what that part will be." Colonel Fei'nur rumbled from her position at the table. Her gaze was narrowed, and she sipped at a cup of _ytar_ with a wary look to the diplomat who had come aboard.

"Unfortunately, the Garatnam Liberation Force, a broad-based coalition of clans and political sectors, was funding its liberation movement with drugs. You have been briefed on that much. The League considers the drugs enough of a problem that they are prepared to withdraw in exchange for Alliance support in eliminating the drug production. We believe that there is a convenient, biological solution for the elimination of the drug production."

"A targeted retrovirus," Nah'dur yawned. "That would be much easier than a counterinsurgency. What are the drugs made from, Madame Minister?"

"...It's an enzyme Numeraians create when partially digesting the _Tiral_ plant to cement the walls of their hives. The idea is to use a targeted retrovirus so the _Tiral_ plant process no longer produces this enzyme," the Secretary explained.

Nah'dur's eyes narrowed. "So we're genetically modifying a plant which is a major part of the cultural practices of the Numeraians based on … Data from the League?"

Yulassana coughed. "Of course not, Surgeon-Commander. We've vetted the information in Alliance contractor laboratories. Eliminating the enzyme process won't negatively impact the _Tiral_ plant."

"But I assume I am to organise this effort as the ranking medical officer on the scene?"

"Yes, Surgeon-Commander." The Gersallian woman folded her hands with a polite smile.

"Then pursuant to Alliance Unified Code of Regulations 28-1-1 subpart D I am going to have to conduct a final on-site environmental impact assessment before commencing the operation," Nah'dur replied.

The Gersallian's smile vanished. "One has already been completed, Surgeon-Commander. All of these operations are intensely time-sensitive to secure the League withdrawal. That won't be possible."

"Including subpart D paragraph 4-site assessments? I don't see how that's possible without physical sampling of the impacted area."

"Captain…" Yulassana glanced to Zhen'var.

"The Surgeon-Commander does have valid concerns, ma'am. It is possible for her to receive the assessment before commencement, I do hope?" Zhen'var had weighed it for a moment; Nah'dur clearly had qualms, and she trusted her sister to have good reasons for them.

"A site assessment wasn't done," Yulassana admitted. "We relied on the Alliance Review Board for Socio-Environmental Impacts in the Foreign Ministry, which issued a FONSI. Is that adequate, Surgeon-Commander?"

"No, Paragraph 5 explicitly excludes the issuance of a FONSI for planetary-scale impacts, and the Numeraians are a planetary-scale civilisation and this impacts their traditional agricultural and building practices, which means planetary-scale impacts. I don't see how anyone could have signed a FONSI on those grounds."

"Because it only impacts drug production, Surgeon-Commander," Yulassana answered in rising frustration.

"No, it doesn't, it impacts the use of the _Tiral_ plant planet-wide," Nah'dur's eyes narrowed.

"But it has _no impact,_ it just removes the necessary proteins for processing to create the enzyme!"

"How do you _know_ that has no planetary impact, Madame Secretary, if you have not conducted a site assessment? As the authority for the executing agency, which is the legal position you just gave me in this briefing, I have both the right and duty to expect a site assessment. I can't accept the FONSI unless Alliance Naval SEMO's legal office says there is no planetary-scale environmental impact, and I seriously doubt anyone will actually sign that opinion unless a site assessment has been conducted."

The only thought Zhen'var could muster was _Little sister is learning Alliance bureaucratic technique very well._

Half of the senior officers looked desperately like they wanted to fall asleep. Violeta was staring at Nah'dur with this partially amazed expression, not necessarily in a good way. Stasia and Rick were exchanging a look which pretty much said it all: _Yep, we work for the Government._

"We are trying to end an insurgency that has lasted for seventy years, Surgeon-Commander, and taken more than three million lives in that time," Yulassana, a Gersallian, was at least very good at remaining calm. A human in the same spot would have probably lost it, pulled rank, and started punching the table by that point.

"Ma'am, do we have an irreconcilable dispute between two rulemaking agencies as described in 28-1-2?" Zhen'var finally spoke, already regretting it. "If so, shall we begin the emergency mediation procedure in Subsection C?"

"We don't have time for this," Yulassana protested. "Please, be sensible. We need to get troops down to the surface immediately as part of the agreement."

"We can deploy peacekeeping forces without settling this matter," Anna offered. "We were already planning to do so before it came up."

"Anna is right," Abebech added drolly.

"...We'll speak about this after the meeting, Captain, alone," Yulassana said, signalling her assent. She looked to Fei'nur with a frown. "Are you ready to land your peacekeeping troops?"

"I am, madame. I have misgivings of the intelligence analysis underpinning the deployment, but beam-down can begin immediately." The veteran Marine Colonel answered without hesitation.

"It is merely a temporary measure to allow the League personnel to evacuate without casualties. We trust the people of Garatnam to organise themselves once the League is gone," she answered mildly.

"If they are given the chance." came the counter. "I have concerns on that front. The Aururian frontier is not far."

"We are realising a long-held objective of their's, why would they cause another diplomatic incident, Colonel, when they only have to wait a few days to open trade with the free government of Garatnam?"

"That may not be their objective. Certainly it is not within their strategic doctrine, Deputy Assistant Secretary Yulassana. Their doctrine speaks to the responsibility of a great power in times of disorder."

"That may be the case, but it is important for us to guarantee self-determination for Garatnam as a demonstration to the League that it may trust us to assist in more withdrawals of this type," she answered, "and so we must proceed with the operation." The woman was clearly frustrated by the resistance she was seeing from the _Huáscar_ 's crew and she wanted to move ahead quickly with the mission she felt was so important.

"As I have said, I am ready to begin deployment immediately." Fei'nur had said her piece, and inclined her head in assent.

"Then do so, Colonel. Captain, if I may speak to you alone now?" Yulassana inclined her head stiffly.

"Of course. Officers, you stand dis-missed." Zhen'var spoke calmly as she rose to replicate a new mug of chai. She waited for the door to hiss closed before returning to her chair, her gaze placidly calm as she looked up at the Alliance diplomat.

"Captain, what is wrong with your crew? I hope you understand that the whole point of the creation of the _Huáscar_ experiment was to demonstrate that your people were worthy of being a full part of the Alliance, and it seems like you actively don't want to participate in a process which could bring peace. I don't understand it, we are talking about millions of lives, and most importantly, about creating a new era of good relations with the League so that we can actually _stand up_ to the dangerously expansionist Aururian Empire."

Zhen'var's eyes flashed, but her voice was exceptionally calm when she replied. "Ma'am, my crew is demonstrating their desire to stand for the forms _and_ ideals of the Alliance! Colonel Fei'nur is a long-service veteran whose independent initiative and planning was critical in preventing the situation on Drachenfeldt into deteriorating into bloody civil conflict. Lieutenant Commander Nah'dur is a brilliant doctor and biologist whose _very well known clan name_ means she is most scrupulous in following the principle of _Vergangenheitsbewältigung._ What we are _concerned_ of is what appears to be failures of intelligence and planning driven by a desire for expeditious resolution of the situation and over-focusing on the desired result rather than the process of achieving it."

Yulassana settled back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "The League would agree to no other terms, Captain. We tried, but these were the only conditions under which they would withdraw from Garatnam, and the Foreign Ministry desperately wants to establish new grounds under which to collaborate with them and show them it is safe to give up their colonialist practices."

"My crew is wary of being caught in an impossible situation, Deputy Assistant Secretary."

"Do you feel they have given us an impossible situation, Captain?"

"The lack of discussion of the Banyuwangi Doctrine in our briefing documents did not fill Colonel Fei'nur with a great deal of confidence, ma'am."

The woman frowned. "The Banyuwangi doctrine, Captain? I am… Not familiar with it, I confess."

Zhen'var's face twisted into a pained grimace. "It is an Aururian geo-strategic doctrine which is… several centuries old by now. Colonel Fei'nur knows more of it, but as I understand the matter, they regard a power which destabilizes a regime as responsible for the consequences; they have been supporting the insurgency here, have they not?"

"Yes, that's a known fact. That's precisely why we are moving in… To reassure the League that if they decolonise, that we can prevent the Aururians from entering the vacuum," Yulassana explained flatly, "and thus turn them into friends we can live with. I will be honest, Captain, I know about Warmaster Shai'jhur's contacts with them about the restoration of Omelos." Her eyes were narrow. "And it seems to me as if perhaps that is behind some of your reluctance."

Zhen'var's look of confusion was honest. "The restoration of _Omelos_ … Divine, but that would be…" A look of honest, wild hope flared in her eyes, and she smiled without thinking. "I had known there were some formal contacts, but, a project so grand…? I can see the reason behind it now, but I had not known. Likely to ensure that I would not be _tempted_ from even-handed pursuit of duty."

Yulassana frowned, pursed her lips, and then nodded. "I will take you at your word, Captain. That was an intensely genuine reaction. Yes, Warmaster Shai'jhur asked for assessments of the feasibility of using solar concentrators and Aururian terraforming techniques-which are the best in known space-to restore Omelos. It is somewhat concerning, I will be honest, the Aururian Empire is aggressively seeking influence in many places in the multiverse."

"Of course they are. They are used to being a Great Power in their galaxy - a wider multi-verse has opened, and left their relative standing much diminished. They practice power politics, as any other outward-looking state does." Zhen'var shifted in her chair, sipping at her mug. "They also look at the world through a Mohist lens."

"Please explain, Captain. There are many human philosophies." She was on the back foot against the starship captain, she knew it, but she wasn't exactly going to get out of it by simply denying it. Gersallian culture pushed back against the very idea of that.

"Mohist consequentalism is, to be simplistic, defining the morality of an action by how it contributes to the basic needs of a state. _It is the business of the benevolent man to seek to promote what is beneficial to the world and to eliminate what is harmful, and to provide a model for the world. What benefits he will carry out; what does not benefit men he will leave alone._ It is inexact, I fear. Proper followers of Mohzi would say ' _promoting the benefit of all under heaven and eliminating harm to all under heaven'_ \- by what Colonel Fei'nur has read, if you replaced 'heaven' with 'The Empress', you would have what the Aururian state believes to be its' own philosophy perfectly."

"That sounds like a perfectly reasonable moral philosophy," the Secretary answered. "And yet we are here with an expansionist Empire which you say will threaten us peace-building on Garatnam, which granted, we were not un-prepared to encounter, but you certainly speak of it as being more urgent than we anticipated."

"They were likely planning to move in as soon as the League left for their own peace-building efforts. Theirs is an older type of politics; we should expect them to intervene to protect what-ever they see as their own interests. Depending on the reach of the drug-running… they may not be willing to sit back and let us establish ourselves. Have they not replied with full-throated efforts short of violence to any of our efforts, near or within their space, or within the enclaves of influence they are establishing elsewhere?"

"You are correct," Yulassana conceded. "Captain, while you are correct, the fact remains that our national interests mean we cannot simply cancel this operation. You must make it succeed. Work with me. What can we do to speed up the implementation of the anti-drugs measures?"

"Nah'dur is brilliant, but Dilgar are incredibly wary of anything... involving virus-bombing a planet." The last part of the sentence came out hesitantly. "We are not seeking to cancel it, but our operations have had a habit of spiraling outside briefing parameters. We will do our utmost, but… the local populace, they are not likely to cooperate, are they?"

"It is their livelihood in many areas most impacted by the insurgency, but many Numeraians oppose the fact their people rely on the drugs trade," Yulassana countered. "We hope we can reach in to provide alternatives and conduct nation-building that will keep them out of the hands of the Aururians."

"We can hope, but it will not be simple. It never is. Forgive me, ma'am, but my people are used to being burned and left to pick up the pieces. We _will_ be pressed. We may well be attacked if they realize why we are here, and I confess I am hesitant of the retroviral plan… are we _certain_ it will have no ill-effect? If we are wrong… we will have handed the planet to the Empire with a gift wrapping."

Yulassana sighed. "Can _you_ do the site assessment, Captain? With the resources onboard your ship, right now? That would avoid the jurisdictional dispute and let us proceed."

"Yes, I can. We are an Explorer, after all." That was ground the Captain understood, and she straightened in her chair. "I can order Lieutenant Commander Nah'dur to begin field work as soon as Colonel Fei'nur has the first landing sites secured."

"Please do so, Captain. I will acquiesce and not file a protest, if you can proceed quickly with the site assessments. We need to keep the timetable as best as we can, or the entire agreement could fall apart."

"We will do our utmost, ma'am. _Huáscar_ has not failed in a mission yet. I can offer no more than that."

Yulassana rose. "Then we have an agreement, Captain. I will entrust you to your own duties, and seeing to it that the Surgeon-Commander understands her role."

"Thank you." Rising, Zhen'var offered a hand. "Your support is most appreciated."

Yulassana took it, and dipped her head. "Harmony for you and your ship, Captain."

 _If fate is kind, which it rarely is._

* * *

Having selected the landing zones, the _Huáscar_ deployed her assault shuttles to secure them, using the lead Marine companies of her now six-company strong "battalion". Two companies went down on the assault shuttles, which was the normal complement, and in doing so secured the LZ's. L'tenant Har'un reported the first LZ. "LZ Alpha secure."

Bikie was on the second. "LZ Bravo secure." In total there were eight LZs, one for each platoon, staged around the capital region of the twin cities of Cite-Liberte and Nova Murcia, located about seventy-five klicks apart; this area with the large human population the League had already organised its withdrawal into.

Major Armstrong looked to Fei'nur. "Colonel, we have the first two Landing Zones." Once each Landing Zone was secured by a single platoon, then they were supposed to beam down two platoons of marines and one platoon of security personnel. The cargo transporters would deliver heavy weapons as support personnel from the additional support companies arrived after that point.

"A good start. We will see how long it lasts." Fei'nur leaned over to watch the displays. She would keep herself with the rapid reaction force on _Huáscar_ , under the current plan. That was the power armour company-and the heavy tanks.

Slowly the reports trickled in. At least coming down to the surface, they were not encountering resistance, but wasn't that how it always was with counter-insurgency operations? Going in was easy, staying was hard. "We're all down, Colonel. Eight company-tripwire positions to cover the urban areas of two million person cities." Janice grinned ruefully.

"Such as it always is. Full long-term force-protection measures. I am _doubtful_ hearts-and-minds will work once they find out why we are here." Fei'nur grumbled like the grognard she was.

"Confirming now…. FPCON Charlie in effect. We can organise watches for the QRF now?"

"Yes. I expect it to take it some time before they start probing." Fei'nur glared balefully at the readouts. "Be ready to move to FPCON Delta when necessary."

"Understood, Colonel."

Major Kel'dar arrived and saluted. "QRF and Tanks in readiness, Battlemaster," he offered with a true Dilgar contempt for the Alliance informality.

"Thank you, Major. I will lead them down, whenever it is. You will relieve me if I am needed back on the _Huáscar_ and Major Richards will take the QRF" Fei'nur returned the gesture. "Gods preserve us, for the plans of the diplomats will surely not."

* * *

Sickbay was not very busy, fortunately. There were a few follow-up appointments for people who had gotten minor injuries on Libo, but beyond that it was generally a downswing following the heavy casualties in the 'Verse. Nah'dur was in her office with a steamy, giant, bowl-shaped mug of ytar.

"Nah'dur. You look quite pleased with your mug. May I come in?" Zhen'var leaned on the hatch coaming with a soft smile on her face.

"My mug is large, and it is filled with tasty stimulant broth," Nah'dur said in perfect seriousness… And then her lips curled into a big grin and she nodded. "Of course, sister." it was impossible, except when Nah'dur wanted you to, to tell when she was being serious or not with her sometimes odd behaviour, but in fact she was perfectly mature when she wanted to be.

"You have come up with a plan to proceed by now, I assume?" the Captain asked idly, dropping into a chair before the surgeon's desk.

"I have been assembling my reports and assessments on the situation... What do you mean by a plan to proceed, Captain?" Nah'dur blinked owlishly. "We're not actually going to do that utter foolishness, are we?"

" _You_ are going to do the site assessment, Surgeon-Commander. We will proceed _only if_ you deem it safe to do so. So it was agreed."

"Oh. Well, good." She sipped her ytar. "Yes, I have a backup plan for that. Of course."

"May I hear it?" The older Dilgar asked, leaning forward in the chair with honest interest.

* * *

It was in the middle of the night for Zhen'var, because of course everything happened in the middle of the night, when Will called her. "Captain, we're getting an all-channels broadcast from the surface, not originating from League positions."

"Understood, you know the drill from Drachenfeldt!" She was already rolling out of her hammock to bring up her terminal, grabbing for the uniform that hung on the wall, ready to hand for this exact sort of circumstance.

"Roger that, Captain." Will immediately ordered full power jamming of the signal, letting it go to space where the Alliance could track and record it, while at the same time preventing it from being repeated or heard except in the immediate vicinity of the broadcast back on the ground.

"All right, let's see what _this_ one involves…" _Please be just a normal political broadcast, not some new call for violence...?_

It was in Numeraian, but the autotranslator worked perfectly and even captured a certain amount of the flare, with the usual expected awkwardness.

"People of the Home-rock, people of our race and nation, the hour has finally come where our enemies retreat from us, where the humans of the far stars, the evicted, the homeless, retreat back to their far-stars and pull away from our home. The rooted, who helped us, now will preserve us against the threat of the rootless, and the countries of our people shall know freedom. On this day we declare our liberty, and permit nothing to stand between us and the aspirations of our people to once again hold fast our homes. We will face the homeless of far-stars as a sovereign, proud, people, indivisible for our land, who could not be conquered and will not be beaten. Together, arise, and make forth a clattering which lets the far-star kin know their day is done, the home is reclaimed by the people! The liberty of our Queens and our Countries is at hand through all the federation! Our sovereignty is resumed, and henceforth shall not be abandoned!"

"Well, that does not sound positive for our efforts, Commander, unless we are the 'rooted'. Which I doubt."

"Should I increase our readiness posture in orbit at this time, Captain?" Will answered, his throat going dry as he did. _The Aururians._

"That would be wise, I believe. We do not know when they will arrive, but we must assume this was pre-planned, and this transmission _will_ get out on the surface once they realize they were jammed. Please get me Deputy Assistant Secretary Yulasanna on the line. I think certain assumptions have just collapsed..."

"Understood, Captain. I'll have you patched through to the DAS now."

She had just enough time to replicate a mug of chai for her desk before the connection went through.

"Captain Zhen'var, Harmony to you. There's something going on planetside, I take it?" Yulasanna's image resolved before her.

"Subchannel one. I will wait for you to view. The transmission was jammed, but enough regional stations picked it up to where we have only delayed, not stopped it from going planetwide."

She could hear Yulasanna pursing her lips and frowning. "They mean the Aururians, do they not?"

"If they do not mean us, there is none other that meets the inference, Secretary Yulasanna. My ship is moving to a higher alert state as we speak. My ground troops are already on the highest possible long-term alert."

"What will you tell the League commander?" She seemed to sound almost demoralised by the event.

"That is now a political question, Deputy Undersecretary. _What do you wish me to do?_ You are the ranking government official on the scene."

Yulasanna froze for a moment, like she had been expecting Zhen'var to just go haring off on her own. Now she was on the spot, and legitimately so. Finally, she smiled a little. "Tell them the truth. That we expect the Aururian Empire will be arriving, and that we will keep the peace even with this additional complication. We will have our work cut out for us, Captain. I will ask for reinforcements, but they may further inflame the matter."

"I think the matter is already inflamed, by the last time a direct contact was made between the Alliance and Empire." _And the League being here adds as much complication as then._

"Do you want the reinforcements, then, Captain?"

"They _may_ worsen the situation. Not having them if they are needed will be far worse. I request them, yes."

"I will put in the request. We can instruct them to hold and await further orders at a trans-universal point from which they can arrive in a minute or two, Captain. When they come, and of course, with no guarantees on their strength. But it will be taken seriously from a negotiator."

"Then I shall hold the situation to our favour as long as I am able, and pray it does not become untenable, madame."

"Of course, Captain. Stand by for an update as soon as we receive a response from headquarters. They may contact you directly. You may reach out to the League forces at your discretion, based on this discussion, Captain. Military to military comms to keep the peace."

"Understood, Madame Secretary. _Huáscar_ is ready." _I hope ready enough…_

It was easy enough for Will to link her through. The ship's alarms were still at Condition Yellow, but they had just gone to ZEBRA. Zhen'var, of course, was in her sea cabin and attached ready room, and could be on the bridge in less than thirty seconds even at full ZEBRA.

Admiral Bonnet's image appeared before her on the screen. "Captain, I thank you for jamming the message from the Garatnam terrorists. You have helped preserve the peace and the agreement between our nations."

"We have only delayed the transmission, Admiral, not stopped it, and in so doing, we have intervened decisively in the planetary politics. It is the belief of myself and the Deputy Undersecretary that an Aururian presence is _en-route_ under a pre-planned scheme. The Alliance intends to keep the peace in this system."

"I will conform my movements to your own, Captain, despite the difference in rank. The League is absolutely committed to defending the peace process on Garatnam and the elimination of drugs cultivation on the planet. If it comes to hostilities, we will have your back." It was with a sharp promptness, really almost too prompt.

"Of course. Thank you, Admiral." _They so desperately want a flashpoint that binds us into a war alongside them, don't they?_ It made her almost sick to her stomach, informed from a read of the after-action report of _Aurora_ 's encounter.

"Thank you, Captain. We will place our ships on alert. Vive la Liberté!" The screen blinked off.

 _Divine protect us_ … "Commander, Admiral Bonnet will conform his actions to ours if fighting breaks out. We _will not fire unless fired upon_ in space."

"Isn't that what they offered the last time too, and they probably caused all of that?" Will asked trenchantly.

"The Admiral responded with that offer _very_ quickly, you are correct, Commander. Sleep is not going to come for me any longer tonight, if you need me, I will be in my ready room." Zhen'var had a resigned tone to her voice.

Will knew better than to suggest she get something from Nah'dur. Even speaking that aloud, Zhen'var would frown on. She took her duties so seriously. "Of course, Captain. But I have the Night Watch well in hand."

"You still have the ship, Commander." A hint of a fond, if chiding tone came through the comm link, before the connection closed.

* * *

It was four hours later, when Zhen'var was finishing her Chai and Chicken 65, far into the land of guilty pleasures by that point. Will had just been preparing to hand the watch off when the lights snapped red in Zhen'var's sea cabin, which could of course only mean one thing. She was starting to move even before the klaxon started to sound.

On the bridge just beyond, the clipped tones of General Quarters-Condition Red-could be heard. With the ship already at Condition Yellow and MC ZEBRA set, there was not much time required for her to be fully ready for action. The screen flashed with the image of Aururian ships arriving in a dispersed formation.

"Captain has the deck. Tactical picture." Zhen'var headed straight for her chair, adrenaline surging and driving fatigue away for now.

"It's a standard Aururian frontier reaction squadron with one battlecruiser detached, reading three repeat three battlecruisers and one fleet carrier, four heavy cruisers, one light, action group of eight destroyers…" She trailed off and shook her head. "The League squadron is raising shields and arming weapons, but they're not making any moves, Captain."

"Good enough. Hail the Aururian squadron, request their intentions."

"Aye, Captain," Tor'jar answered at communications. "They are answering the hail with full visual-audio comms."

"On the screens, then. Standard focus on me." Zhen'var straightened her uniform jacket and stiffened her spine, crossing her hands in her lap and folding one leg over another.

The screen blinked on to reveal a sharp looking shortish woman compared to those around her, with mahogany skin and a single tied braid that forced curly hair into order. She was addressing someone, and then turned to face the screen in a crisp motion. The uniform was a crushed peaked cap, a jacket with visible fleece lining on the collar flaps over a skirt, and it was predominantly in white. She was almond eyed and oval of face, and her expression was completely composed. "Commander ASV _Huáscar_ , I am Rear Admiral Afyhovindriyambohimanga of the 29th Quick Reaction Squadron." The Universal translator blerped and tried to translate the name from Malagasy to English as 'Fire-servant lady of the Royal Hill' before giving up and unmasking it, considering she was speaking in excellent English. Tor'jar stared in blank aghast amazement.

"I am Captain Zhen'var. State your intentions, Rear Admiral Afyhovindriyambohehmanga?" She tried her _hardest_ with the name, but Dilgar vocal cords weren't meant to _produce_ some of those sounds.

She pursed her lips. "You may address me as Afyhova," the woman allowed. "Captain, we are here at the request of the national government of Garatnam on the basis of their declaration of independence."

There was a flicker of a frown, and Zhen'var wanted to swallow before she replied in a calm voice; "The Alliance recognizes no declaration of independence, Rear Admiral. We are here to oversee a decolonization per an already negotiated agreement."

"Decolonisation ends in independence, Captain. The League is withdrawing from Garatnam and your government has recognised the independence of the planet. We are making sure that the liberty the people of Garatnam now enjoy shall not be disturbed by disorder. At the invitation of their lawful government. Accordingly, we will be remaining in the outer system to observe the final withdrawal of the League occupation forces. We have never _accepted_ their colonisation of Garatnam, we merely extended the _courtesy_ of not contesting that illegal action to them per the Treaty of Caldane. Now that they are voluntarily withdrawing from the planet, Caldane no longer applies."

"Of course, the Alliance is working to guarantee the League completes their withdrawal in safety. At that point, you are correct, Garatnam will be fully free and independent." _This has become a diplomatic tinderbox._

"Perhaps it is not very respectful toward freedom for the enslavers to get to choose when their slaves become free," the Aururian Admiral answered, her voice turning dark, as she glanced over to a Ralsan of Captain's rank who saluted and came to her side. Then she looked back to Zhen'var and smiled. "Still, we have no quarrel with the Dilgar. I will hold position in the outer system, as I stated."

"In negotiations, not everything is as one wishes." She felt shame flicker across her face, but the Alliance was rapidly getting into a cold war with these people. "Thank you for your forbearance, Admiral Afyhova."

"Your reputation precedes you, Captain, I thank you for the consideration." She raised her hand formally, and the screen blinked off. The Aururian squadron hung, posed in space, gleaming like gunmetal in the faint light of Garatnam's star.


	37. Episode 7 Act 4

**Act 4**

A few hours later, Nah'dur was standing in front of the exhausted Captain. She had methodically worked through her test plan, and considering the way the chemical was used in its normal, non-illicit drug application, it became quite clear what she needed to understand to complete an EIS. The paperwork presented fascinating new challenges in the dark arts of bureaucracy and had certainly been entertaining, but now she was confident that she could use some VIs she had helped Fera'xero to programme to actually execute all of the writing and save her a great deal of time, so she really only needed to get the data, which would keep her interest longer than the paperwork ever could.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need to enter a hive-city and conduct sampling. You'll need to get me permission from the locals. There's no other way to assess the Environmental Impact." Fera'xero nodded glumly. "It involves quite a lot of testing that can only be done from sampling. Biospheric environments are too complex to model at the micro-scale."

"Finding of no significant impact my…" Zhen'var grumbled, the only sign of how exhausted she was being that she actually let the thought slip into speech. "Understood, Surgeon-Commander. How much of a team, and how noticable will it be?"

"Four or five technicians. I should lead them. I mean, the issue is any cultural risk of scraping things off and taking core samples and so on," Nah'dur gestured. "They might get upset."

I will consult with our local expert _and_ detail Colonel Fei'nur for close-in security. I am not taking chances." came the Captain's response. "Prepare your team, Surgeon-Commander, and expect the worst."

"Ooh, I get to be with Fei'nur. Everything will be fine then."

Fera'xero stared at his colleague in blank incomprehension.

Zhen'var gave her stepsister a _look_. "Even the Colonel can not manage _every_ eventuality. Be about it, Commander."

"You will let me know when permission has been obtained?" Her eyes shone. "I will prepare the briefings and review the documentation in the meantime, and make sure everyone understands what we need for the sampling plan and the security plan."

The older Dilgar woman nodded, face showing hints of a fond smile. "I shall, Commander. I have full confidence in your leadership of the detachment. Dismissed." Once they had departed, she reached for her console; "Comms, I need the Deputy Undersecretary at her earliest convenience."

* * *

Three minutes later, Yulassana answered. "Captain Zhen'var, firstly, I want to thank you for keeping the situation calm with the Aururians. What do you need?"

"We need to send a team down to take samples in a hive city in order to complete the impact study, ma'am." She mentally grimaced, doubting this would result in any sort of pleasant reaction.

"The official hand-over hasn't happened, we need to conform with the requests of the League until that point, Captain. They don't want us leaving the secured Massif. We just have one diplomatic contact with the Numeraians…" She looked at Zhen'var. "You are really causing a … We can't meet our obligations to the League without this, can we?"

"Not in a timely fashion, no." _The picture of the ship in her report is not going to be a very flattering one…_

"Let me reach out to Admiral Bonnet. He is acting as the Planetary Governor for the course of the withdrawal. Please stand by, you should likely expect a meeting."

"Understood, ma'am. I will be awaiting further communications." Zhen'var nodded her head fractionally before the connection dropped. As soon as it did, she leaned back in her chair and let out an explosively loud sigh of exasperation.

"Captain," Elia's voice chimed almost a moment later. "The Aururian Admiral has invited us to dinner on the … _Resolution,_ I think the name translates as."

"... _Wonderful._ As a forewarning, I am expecting Admiral Bonnet to invite us to dinner in about five minutes..." _Gods, but this is a comedy waiting to happen._

"...What does that mean for what I should tell her, Captain?"

"We accept, but caution her that I may be unable to attend, and extend my apologies. Colonel Fei'nur is my equal in rank and can stand in my stead, while Commander Atriad keeps the watch aboard." Her mind could just _see_ all the ways this could go wrong, and it showed in the grimace on her face. "The mission comes first, if Admiral Bonnet wishes a meeting, the Deputy Undersecretary will expect me to prioritize it."

"She acknowledged," Elia answered a moment later. "That seemed a little tense, though."

"I am not surprised. It looks, diplomatically… _bad_ , in a word. I shall hope for there to be no schedule conflict between the two. Your read of the current situation?"

"I really want to see the results of the EIS," Elia answered after a brief hesitation. "I think we're getting had."

"I have concerns along similar lines, but we will, of course, remain even-handed until such time as we have proof, one way or another. Be as wary and careful as you were raised to be, and perhaps we shall come out the other side to our credit."

Her persocomp indicated another incoming call from Yulassana. That had fortunately not taken long.

"Secretary is calling; brief you later, Commander." Zhen'var had an apologetic smile before she transferred links. "Yes, Madame Secretary?"

"Admiral Bennet will see you, as well as Director Merenteram of the National Transitional Council. Dinner going to work? I will host it aboard my ship to use the replicators to comply with species dietary requirements."

The Captain was very proud she managed not to groan audibly. "It shall, ma'am, certainly. I shall attend; is a selection of my officers wished as well?"

"Please, the League will certainly bring their own."

"Of course, I thank you for hosting the event. Link it to my calendar, and we shall be there."

"Thank you, Captain. I will see you shortly." The screen blinked off and the invitation appeared a moment later.

Zhen'var silently tapped up an invitation to a staff meeting to her senior officer's and senior NCO's omnitools; with a note attached; _Arrive in dress uniform if you wish an opportunity for attending a diplomatic dinner_. She added a note to Fei'nur that, unfortunately, for her, it was _required_.

Which of course begged the question of who would be going with _Fei'nur,_ a matter Zhen'var was still musing over when she arrived, in her dress whites. Fei'nur looked less than well pleased as she sat there; the look she gave her Captain was _almost_ a glower. Almost.

* * *

In the meanwhile, Will and Fera'xero and Anna had all volunteered for the diplomatic dinner with the National Transitional Council and Admiral Bonnet, and that left… A different sort of crowd of potential officers to go along with Fei'nur. Will of course got the short stick; he was the XO, and the ship needed a commander.

Nah'dur _had_ expressed an interest, at which Fei'nur tried not to cringe; her eyes scanned the room as to whom else was left. Elia… and Commander Imra. _Ye gods_. "It seems I have my volunteers to meet the Imperial Admiral, Commanders?" She could hear Zhen'var starting to brief her group on the other end of the table.

"Of course, Colonel," Abebech smiled. "I always love being sociable."

"...They are an intensely interesting people," Elia added. She seemed to be, in part, coming out of loyalty to Fei'nur from a Mha'dorn.

 _There is no need for you two to go if you do not wish to do so. Nah'dur wishes to get a chance to make medical contacts with a people who fascinate her._ Fei'nur 'thought' rather hard at the two of them.

 _Why Fei'nur, that's nice of you, but don't worry. The Aururians are interesting to me. They seem like… Fundamentally decent people, actually._

 _Actually, I'm certain of that,_ Abebech rejoined.

"We will talk more on the way, then. Surgeon-Commander?" Fei'nur's gaze fell to Abebech. "How are you certain, if I may ask? Most of the Alliance does not share the opinion."

Nah'dur fell in cheerfully with them.

Abebech smiled at that and looked sharply to Fei'nur. "They don't ask how Aururians actually solve disputes internally, which at the lower levels of their society is very collegiate. They have made the Ralsan very collegiate as well. The Alliance just looks at the position of the Empress, and proceeds on stereotype. A failing of our's."

"An Empress which has a lineage of…" She trailed off. "Obeying the constitutions they grant when it is wise, and overthrowing them when necessary. I believe the multiple and open voting is also a matter of poor optics to much of the Alliance, without even bringing up the issue of classical power politics."

"I never thought I would hear of a state where the entire population returns to the towns of their foremothers in some great assemblage like Caesar's census to hold elections," Abebech shook her head wryly, "but the wonders never cease. Her line is one of the oldest around, though even in other universes where their fate is much less strange and filled with glories, the peoples of Australia had an unparalleled history in oral storytelling of high fidelity and accuracy."

"Possibly as good as telepathic memetic transfer," Elia explained. "I mean that literally. Though you won't hear many other telepaths admitting to it. We have our own biases."

"Yet we know relatively little about them. I have read the League's reports, that of the crew of the _Aurora_ , and that of our own analysts, and it all-together tells me very little useful; what I saw on Germania told me more than all those. Enough to be… filled with disquiet over them so rapidly becoming a _concern_ to politicians."

"We will find out a little bit more today," Elia offered. "War with them would only come through a mistake, not their conscious act."

"There are plenty of opportunities for _mistakes_ in situations as this. I am concerned by how matters have developed thus far." Fei'nur worked her hands into fists, before forcing them to relax. "My galaxy has seen this road walked repeatedly."

"Then we will be honest with them. The Captain did not restrict what we can say, and we really have nothing to hide," Abebech observed. "Well, pardon me. There is one thing. I really don't think we should mention the plan to use a genetically engineered plague to eliminate the drug-producing enzyme. Not yet."

"Commander Nah'dur will be discreet about that, I am certain, with how badly she regards the idea." Fei'nur answered, her own expression showing a flicker of distaste.

"I need to get to the surface of the planet," Nah'dur answered as she prepared to peel off and get her dress uniform. "Then I will know a lot more. I am certainly not going to admit to the Aururians that I may have been ordered to commit a crime."

Elia grimaced. "I suppose that's where we find ourselves."

"I prefer to think of the matter as attempting to correct an imbalance of diplomatic effort." Fei'nur shrugged. "We shall see. I do not think this invitation was offered from mere politeness."

* * *

Arriving on Yulassana's ship, Zhen'var, Anna, Fera'xero and Arterus were greeted by a brace of guards who led them to a tastefully laid out, calm-projecting Gersalian conference room. Admiral Bonnet and his staff, minus the Chief of Staff notably-who presumably would handle the squadron if anything went down-and three Numeraians, six-limbed but able to stand on two with multifaceted eyes, regarded them sharply. Admiral Bonnet watched carefully and Yulassana rose.

"Captain Zhen'var and her officers, being her Chief Engineer, Science Officer and Navigating Officer," she presented, supplying names. "Ter'int'mahn of the National Transitional Council and staff; Admiral Bonnet of the League of Democratic Worlds and Staff."

An smile crossed Zhen'var's face as she clicked her heels and gave a small bow of her head to Ter'int'mahn, and another nod to Admiral Bonnet. "A pleasure to meet you, and finally in person, Admiral Bonnet."

"Captain," Bonnet rose. His staff reflected the inherent tension the League had with aliens, but they were all strictly professional. Now the food was laid out, a different meal for everyone at the table, except Anna and the League men, who shared dietary options. It almost - to Zhen'var, at least, who was a special case - seemed like some strange dream, where the concerns of nations were discussed over genteel place-settings.

"You want access to our hives," Ter'int'mahn observed. "They are our traditional motherlands. Many live outside of them now in artificial structures, but each Numeraian has a clan into which they were born and a Mother-Queen to whom they ultimately owe their loyalty, to whom they have their heritage. It is a system we were working on reforming to conform with the progressive ideals of the League for independence, so we could keep the Mother-Queens in certain traditional roles while incorporating ideas of liberty for primary decision-making."

"It is so. We wish to ensure that no harm comes to them via what may be introduced from the wider multiverse. Ecologies are complex things, as are traditions. I understand that it is an imposition, Ter'int'mahn."

"Traditionalists are the greatest problem to our reforms. The problem is that inside the old hives, you will find the supporters of the traditional rule by the Queen-Mothers, who have long conducted an insurgency against the League," the Numeraian answered.

"We certainly cannot guarantee your safety, nor can the government," Admiral Bonnet said.

"That said," Ter'int'mahn continued, "There are several hives directly under the Xiteran Plateau that your troops are on. They are aligned with the NTC. We could try to set up secure conditions for one of your teams to enter one."

"However, there is a _very real_ risk of attack," Bonnet interjected again.

"It is necessary, Admiral, I fear I must insist, even with the risk." Zhen'var turned her gaze back to the Numeraian. "The effort would be greatly appreciated."

"We will do everything we can to guarantee the security of the team," Ter'int'mahn replied with a soft chitter. "Completing the withdrawal is important to the legitimacy of the National Transitional Council and our interests in receiving help and assistance from the Alliance to maintain our reforms."

"For that, you have my thanks. We shall continue to do our utmost to ensure the _success_ of the League withdrawal and the transitional period thereafter." Zhen'var was honestly pleased by the helpfulness of the NTC's representative, at least on the surface. It was, however, an open question of what was happening on the Aururian flagship with Colonel Fei'nur…

* * *

Fei'nur, Abebech and Elia had arrived by shuttle on the Aururian flagship.

Brushing away imaginary lint, Fei'nur turned to stride down the gangway. She had _almost_ worn her Dilgar uniform for this, thinking it would give a better impression. She had resisted the urge, however, and she stepped down with medals and ribbons adorning the green dress jacket. "Permission to come aboard?" She asked crisply, in untranslated English, saluting the sunrise-adorned Imperial Crest on the bulkhead.

"Permission granted!" A fleece-coated Ralsan woman saluted with sharp pride and then extended her hand. "Captain Mirrawi Kerolit of the _Resolution,_ Colonel. Admiral Afyhova is waiting for you with the rest of her staff."

"Thank you, Captain. May I present Commander Abebech Imra, Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, and Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez, who are of the _Heermann_ , and the last two of the _Huáscar,_ respectively.

"This way, Colonel, Commanders." She started off. "We are very proud of our battlecruiser, she is certainly one of the finest ships in the frontier fleet. Admiral Afyhova was an upperclasswoman in my section when I was new in the Academy," the Ralsan woman's tail flicked. "She sets a very fine table."

"We look forward to the opportunity to sample her hospitality, Captain, it shall certainly be more congenial than some I have had the misfortune to experience." The side of Fei'nur which had been the secret emissary of the Dilgar to the multiverse on full display.

"You are a carnivore are you not? The Admiral sets her table from Madagaskarian tradition and she certainly has prepared on that assumption."

"Preferential, yes. I do not believe we have any _specific_ dietary restrictions amongst our party. It will be most welcome. I do not believe I have as yet had the experience of sampling cuisine from that isle."

"The more raw it is, the better," Abebech confessed with a wry smile.

"Oh, I am sympathetic. You might like Ralsan dishes then, we often like to cook with marinades instead of heat," the Captain explained. "There will be some." It was a large group of officers, with the Admiral in her dress uniform coming up as the Captain saluted.

"Colonel Fei'nur. I understand you were sent as the commander of the ground expeditionary force?" Afyhova asked.

"I am so serving as, yes, Admiral. I am the commander of the _Huascar_ 's Marine contingent, and second only to Captain Zhen'var on her rank table. She extends her most sincere apologies she could not make it this evening." She herself saluted Afyhova out of reflex, trying to be on her best behaviour with a foreign Admiral."

Afyhova returned the salute. "Then please, sit with me at my table as my guest with your fellow-officers. You are welcome among us, Colonel Fei'nur. Indeed, is your not your Dilgar rank Battlemaster, so that really you should be something of a Senior Colonel?" She was _very_ well informed, and for whatever reason in what the Aururians were planning, willing to share it.

"That is correct. Captain Zhen'var ranks me by less than a week of time in grade." A hint of wariness coloured her voice, and Fei'nur wondered just how thick the file on her species that this Empire's intelligence services held _was_.

"I take it that the Captain is meeting with my counterpart from the League?" She asked, her smile affable, as the table was set out and glasses filled around by liveried attendants, mostly young Ralsan women.

"She is meeting with the Alliance Deputy Undersecretary. Admiral Bonnet may also be a guest." Fei'nur hedged carefully, glancing about the compartment, and she offered a nod and murmur of thanks as her glass was filled. "There is every reason and incentive to ensure the League's withdrawal is expeditious."

"Well, I regret the lack of ability to meet her," the Admiral answered. "With that… Let us get started." She tapped her glass. The Aururians began to rise, and of course it was the youngest officer, a shining dark eyed black woman with curly hair, who rose eagerly at the table in her dress uniform and presented her glass. "Her Majesty, the Empress of the Sun!"

"Her Majesty!"

Fei'nur raised her glass herself and joined in the toast; it was polite and diplomatic, even if she wanted to raise her own - most impolitic - one in response.

As the toast finished, though, the next seniormost officer raised her glass. "To His Excellency the President of the Alliance."

That hadn't been the toast Fei'nur had thought of, but she raised her glass by rote in the classic style. "His Excellency!"

But the Aururians were quite aware of some of the nuances here. Now a Lieutenant Commander rose. "Her Eminence Warmaster Shai'jhur of the Honourable Union of Tira and Rohric!"

That was enough to make a smile cross Fei'nur's face as she _quite_ enthusiastically returned that toast. The Alliance President was not her President _quite_ yet.

"I confess that we would all like to see the Dilgar remain independent," Captain Mirrawi admitted boldly to Fei'nur, with Nah'dur blinking in interest. "In fact, there is a children's adventure book about the Warmaster and her wife available in the Empire these days; my own eldest daughter had a copy at home, much to my surprise."

It was not often that anyone at that table had seen Fei'nur at a total loss for words. "A… children's adventure book? That is… I admit, I had not expected such a thing. Certainly there are debts to be repaid, however, that cannot be ignored."

Afyhova looked bemused. "That's Lady Rawlins' ' _Adventurous Romances in Foreign Lands_ ' chapbook series, is it not, Captain?"

"Yes, it's entitled _The Castaways,_ " Mirrawi explained. "Colonel, Battlemaster, we understand perfectly that you are not in a place to do anything except go all-in for the Alliance, because otherwise you would be chopped to bits. But still, we were excited to be able to help with Omelos, and I think us Ralsan especially feel a kindred with you. Once we thought we were tops, too, until we ran into humans. It only went differently because of the Her Majesty's Ancestresses."

Fei'nur gave a single quick look to Nah'dur. "I… admit, I also have real excitement at the prospect. We have found peoples amongst the stars… _painfully_ similar to ourselves."

"Wait, you're doing some kind of project with Omelos? Why, surely…!" She almost bounced out of her chair.

Admiral Afyhova looked at Fei'nur.

"It has been kept a close-held secret so far, Admiral… Surgeon-Commander, the Warmaster has been in negotiations with the Aururian Empire for the purposes of contracting with them to restore the biosphere of Omelos to an extent that it may once again support Dilgar life upon the surface. Initial surveys have this far proven to be promising."

"You would, _really?_ " Nah'dur's eyes lit up.

"We would, even if you become Alliance members as I fear you must. It is an unmitigated _Good_ thing," Afyhova answered. "Healing a world such as that always is, that was once a healthy biome, and restoring it to what it was."

"There's still life in the deep ocean abyssals," Nah'dur immediately started musing. "It takes a long while to freeze the sea, if it would ever happen at all…"

"Indeed, and we shall protect that."

"I will ensure you are copied on the various briefing and proposal papers, Commander." Fei'nur added, into the pause after the Admiral's comment, though she did give a glance to the other two Alliance officers there. This was the sort of thing the Alliance government was concerned of, the relentless Aururian efforts to expand their influence in other universes.

"It will be good to see our homeworld restored," Elia answered, taking a defiant stand as another Dilgar officer.

"You are a citizen of the Union?" Afyhova looked surprised.

"I am, Admiral. As a telepath…"

"Ah, indeed. No need to say more. We are aware of that situation." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Colonel Fei'nur, I am not interested in a fight here. What I am interested in is making sure that the Numeraians have a safe, truly free transition to self-governance, and we have concerns that the National Transitional Council, a creature of the League, really plans to take that course."

"We are, thus far, proceeding off the briefing we have been given by our diplomatic office. It indicated the Council was endeavouring to establish a constitutional and democratic regime." Fei'nur sipped at her glass. "I understand Banyuwangi requires you to ensure the end state is as noble as the aim."

Afyhova tipped her brow with a gesture of her hand. "You are correct, Colonel. In this case we have serious concerns that the NTC really intends to represent the will of the Numeraians and indeed whether or not this is just an attempt at continued economic domination in disguise."

"I am…" Fei'nur paused, before she went on with a mental wince that did not show on her face. " _Reasonably_ certain the Alliance would not permit such a thing to come to pass. We will be investigating conditions ourselves, of course, as much as we are permitted and able."

"The NTC need only sign those agreements with League corporations," Mirrawi leaned in. "Even in sovereignty, their nation would be destituted to foreign powers. How do you propose to prevent it?"

"Would one say the Union is destituted to the Empire, if we sign agreements with _you_?" She asked, with a hint of challenge to her voice. "The Captain must weigh what she sees while she is here, and give the wisest council she may to the government."

"Of course, but we will not tolerate a government for Garatnam that does not represent its population. The NTC has never been anything other than a creation of the League," Afyhova answered, all too calmly.

"Nor will any Alliance we are sworn to. _Huáscar_ has something of a reputation, I am certain your files will indicate." Fei'nur was starting to see the direction the conversation was going; it was a _warning_ , and she started to feel a worming current of tension in her gut.

"One question is whether or not there is any sincerity in what the League does," Mirrawi leaned, her green eyes flaring and ears flexing down. "Colonel, I still have the pictures that my grandmother took when she was liberating the camps, when she was part of the Army which brought the honour of the Empire to liberate the remains of the Ralsan Imperium. They are the children of genocidaires. They speak from two mouths at once, and have no respect for any but their own blood."

"You understand, Captain, why the matter is less certain to the Alliance government." She had a real disquiet that was making this feel awkward. She did not wish to _defend_ a people she did not trust. "Much has been staked upon this negotiation being successful."

"They take advantage of simplistic comparisons and easy moralising." she countered.

Afyhova raised her hand." "Be not so unkind, they come to us honestly. Colonel, you may be assured that we would render aid to your forces if the locals attacked, and try to restore the peace."

"While I thank you for the offer, I do not think the League would see it as any but an invasion, until such time as they have formally withdrawn." The Dilgar veteran murmured, glancing to the well-experienced Abebech. _Why does it always rain when you left your tent behind…_

"You are right, but we will still come if it is necessary to restore the peace."

Abebech straightened slightly. "Admiral, you have spoken many kind words but what remains is the fact that it is your allies who can dial the tension up or down against us."

"Commander, we cannot control the anger of others at the defilement of their homes."

"It can be cautioned that _we_ of the Huáscar are not here to support the League. We are not the team that has been here before." Fei'nur looked down at the table for the moment. "Captain Zhen'var does not accept what she is told without _verifying_ it."

"Then you may find answers you do not like, Colonel."

* * *

Very early the next ship's morning, Nah'dur stood in front of Zhen'var and Fei'nur. "So there's my plan for the mission," she was concluding, "and our personnel are already preparing themselves for departure. Do you have any questions, Captain, Colonel?"

Zhen'var looked up at her with a mildly quizzical look. "Correct me if I am wrong, Surgeon-Commander, but can not your security plan be distilled down to 'Colonel Fei'nur'?"

There was a twitch of muscles on the Spectre's face as she valiantly avoided a grin appearing.

"Well, one merely has to have Fei'nur identify a threat, and then the rest follows," Nah'dur answered nonchalantly. "She really is highly effective."

"And if the Colonel is, fate being unkind, neutralized or separated from your team in some way?" Zhen'var's tone was not sharp, but she was expressing her own line of thought and trying to solicit further elaboration.

"Oh, then of course I've covered the tactical dispositions for the tac-com net for interfacing with the NTC forces, I've gotten a plan down to exfiltrate to their nearest post, and how we will overcome transporter interference. I've also covered rules for joint coverage of teams and staying together against kidnapping attempts and have a complement of anti-bomb detection drones linked into our omnitools," she answered nonchalantly.

"That is all I was looking for. Thank you, Commander. Colonel?" Zhen'var glanced over.

"I have no questions. The Surgeon-Commander has carried out the planning to her usual high standards. When Commander Nah'dur is ready?"

Nah'dur looked like she was almost going to jump in the air, though she just came to attention. "Of course, Captain, Colonel. I will be departing within thirty minutes, then."

"Leave is granted. Good luck, and be _careful_ , both of you. Dismissed."

After they left, Nah'dur sniffed gently. "You know I would never neglect those things," she protested gently to Fei'nur.

"I know that, and the Captain knows that, but she wants to _hear_ your planning. It soothes her fears as your sister, and her worries as your Captain. You will not be a Commander forever."

"You think she is actually afraid for me?" Nah'dur's skin rippled with a sheepish look crossing her face.

"As much as your mother and I am, sometimes. Fate is often most _cruel_ to Dilgar." came the reply, in a lowered voice.

Nah'dur paused, and looked around them. "Another woman would have told me to change my name," she answered bluntly, getting to what she felt was really the point.

"Perhaps, Nah, but none of us _have._ Nor will we." Fei'nur's gaze swept the corridor. "When you grow famous enough, you must be ready for what is to come. Until then, you are Zhen'var's sister."

"I think she's braver than I am," Nah'dur said idly. "Braver than you. Maybe not Tra'dur and Mother-Shai, though."

"If you define bravery as you are doing, I would not disagree. Everything I did during the war, I did to try and get home." The sentence ended in a quiet growl. "I intend to get _you_ home, too."

Nah'dur curled a bit and reached out to Fei'nur. "I'm sorry, Fei. I won't be so trite anymore, or at least I'll try very hard. I…" _I forget that you lost everything. We were your only reason to live._

"All I will ask of you, child of Dur. Come, we have a mission to execute." She squeezed Nah'dur's hand, before her usual detachment settled across her features as they turned onto a main corridor.


	38. Episode 7 Act 5

**Act 5**

Arriving on the surface of the planet, Nah'dur and her team got to work. As promised she had five technicians, plus Fera'xero, a security squad, and of course lurking somewhere around, Fei'nur. They rode vehicles from the Marine vehicle pool out to the entry-tunnel gates of the selected hive-city so that they could beam down inside of a secured area, but they were unarmed utility vehicles, in case they had to be abandoned.

A bejeweled and robed older Numeraian bowed and scraped his upper limbs to the ground when they met their welcoming party. "I am Sub-Vizier Ter'mitran. Queen Tisararam is ever-pleased to be of assistance to the National Transitional Council, and you shall be follow us to let you begin your sampling."

"Sub-Vizier, we are honoured. I am Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur. Please do lead on." With a nod, they started below, Fera'xero with a drone at his side, sampling as they moved further down into the hive city.

While the appearance of things was as expected, that had not stopped Fei'nur from flexing her fingers on her sidearm during the entire journey, starting as soon as they had headed underground. She could never forget Balos.

As they approached the lower caverns, they saw before them, illuminated with bioluminescence and some artificial light, an immense expanse of open caverns, in which buildings were made of stalactite and stalagmite-shapes inside of open halls, with many of the Numeraians moving about. Nah'dur stopped for a moment. "It's amazing, isn't it?"

"And all natural, they're converting the dirt to cement with their own bodies' enzymes through the Tiral plant," Fera'xero added, studying the output from his sensors. "They're able to build underground caverns as large as we can with those techniques."

 _And that is what this… targeted lacing of the planet might interrupt…_ Fei'nur glanced about. The open spaces, at least, were _quite_ different. "It is impressive, I admit."

"All right, let's start by sampling the main structural supports," she gestured to the columns that had been left in place and successively plastered again and again with enyzmes until they were like concrete bridge pylons.

"Agreed, Surgeon-Commander," Fera'xero concurred, and started for one at the centre of the great market down in the depths of the city. Around them, tens of thousands of Numeraians hummed and chattered.

 _Gods, but could it be more exposed?_ Fei'nur shifted to at least get a _wall_ at her back. _I have an ill feeling of this._ As long as her tactical links stayed up, the Colonel could convince herself it _might_ be nothing.

* * *

Back aboard the _Huáscar,_ life went on. The regular watch rotations held, and Zhen'var was in her office while an Officer-of-the-Watch held the ship, going over reports and holding meetings. Toward the end of her office hours, Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu, the ship's Rihannsu navigator, came in for an appointment that he had requested.

"Lieutenant tr'Rllaillieu. Sit, and be at ease." Her ever-present mug of chai was on her desk, as she folded her hands before her and leaned fractionally forwards.

He moved to sit, but being at ease seemed beyond him in that moment. "I meant to have this meeting sooner, but the needs of our deployment made it impossible, Captain. As you know, I visited my cousin while I was on leave."

"You are here now, and I am so aware, Lieutenant." Her tone was casual, as Zhen'var tried to divine the direction the meeting was going.

"She reintroduced me to the woman who saved our lives from the Tal Shiar," Arterus said, and hesitated. "I do not understand it _at all,_ Captain, but… She introduced herself to us. Her name is Danaine Taruar. Captain, she was one of the most honourable humans I know, she had Mnhei'sahe in her veins, she was a woman of fire as the Elements go, and stronger and steadier than many Rihannsu." He looked down for a moment. "And she's an Aristo."

The Captain's mouth opened fractionally, her eyes widening in shock. "You… mean to say… are you _certain_ , Lieutenant…? That matches nothing we know so far of them, as you know. Do you think there is anything _untoward_ about her actions thus far..?"

"Captain… I shall be plain with you. She introduced herself as a personal emissary of the Eubian Emperor. And she said she wanted to meet with someone in the Alliance who was absolutely trustworthy, with whom she could establish a line of communication."

Without even thinking, Zhen'var let out a soft puff of a sigh. "Arre, you mean _me_ , do you not, Lieutenant? If so, very well."

"Khre'Riov," he addressed her, stumbling and then pushing himself up to attention. "It is uncomfortable for me. Her people are thought the most evil known, now that we have beaten the Reich. But she said she needed our help and that her Emperor needed our help, and she wants to talk. And I owe her my life, and my cousin's life as well."

" _Veherr_ , Lieutenant, I do not speak dismissively. I am willing - eager, even, to, assist. Even if I feel _io stelam 'nil io cehlaer_ sometimes."

He laughed, the tension broken. "Thank you, Captain. I have secure comm codes to the _Far Star_ for you. I owe it to do right by her, and you." He extended the small chit.

"Thank you. I shall use them when there are not multiple warships who might be far too eager to eavesdrop within hailing distance." Taking the chit, she stood. "If there was nothing else, I need to take supper before standing watch."

"Of course, Captain." It was as they both rose that the alerts started.

* * *

On the surface, Nah'dur and Fera'xero had been carefully leading the sampling effort when Fera'xero, inscrutable under his mask, took a few steps over toward Fei'nur and activated the short range commlink channel. " _Colonel, we are being watched. There is an automated sensor grid feeding information out on us. Inconspicious and very sophisticated._ "

 _"_ _I am not surprised."_ the burst transmission came back, as her cybernetics started to move to a higher energy consumption state. _"Be ready for ambuscade."  
_  
"Surgeon-Commander!" She called out, with a hint of exasperation projecting into her tone. "How much longer will it be?" When Nah'dur turned, Fei'nur delicately scratched at her cheek, with a single extended claw.

"Thirty tango charlies," Nah'dur answered. That sounded like some form of time measure to confuse the person surveiling them, but actually it was a warning to the rest of the team in turn. She had gotten it, and immediately, too.

The sensors were foreign, Fei'nur could divine that much, which meant her people were - to her reckoning - about to end up in the middle of some proxy skirmish. As to _which_ power vying over the planet it was, that didn't matter, not yet. She started to wander off - trying to break contact enough to have a chance to activate the stealth gear that was _her_ equalizer in such a situation.

A group of Numeraians rushed out from the midst of the market toward one of Nah'dur's outer sampling teams. One of the security team with them spun toward the attackers. " _TIC team four engaging_!" Crackled over the comm as a burst of charge fire seared into the carapaces of the group of attackers.

" _Shovel to White, we are under attack! Beam up if possible!_ "

The request was met with static, nothing more than static, as the distinctive sound and sight of Aururian guns firing from the group of Numeraians. The security personnel who had accompanied them from the NTC forces were already gone, disappearing just as the group from the _Huáscar_ prepared for the ambush.

Nah'dur was already on her belly with her main group, firing in enfilade down on the group attacking her team, even though they only had sidearms. The other four outlying sample teams were pulling back when a cart next to a stand in the market exploded, and one of the science techs and a Security Corporal collapsed from the massive shock from an IED overwhelming their personal shields.

Fei'nur bit back the curse that wanted to slip from her lips, as she activated her stealth gear and tried to break contact to repay the ambush. Nah'dur's efforts were going to be tested; Imperial weapons would do _heavy_ damage to anyone not in full armour, and most of the team was very much _not_. The massive number of shield activations the distributed flechettes produced would also serve to quickly drain the shields

Nah'dur's central group was laying down a heavy fire with their pulse pistols, which led to Team Four begin to fall back toward the base of the column. Hundreds of Numeraians were fleeing in every direction, but dozens were also approaching.

" _Shovel,_ " Nah'dur's voice crackled over the comm. " _Smarty_." Some wondered if Nah'dur actually grasped her callsign, but she had accepted it regardless. " _Can you finish supporting team four? I can try to reach the wounded from team two if you do._ "

Two clicks over tactical comms were the reply as Fei'nur started moving. If she _could_ be picked up by the enemy's sensors, this was going to be _very_ painful.

Nah'dur, covered by two security personnel, dashed down toward the fallen from team two. Ostensibly an ambush, Fera'xero's drone began to attack the ambush position, having detected it from where it flitted above. Nah'dur fiddled with something and threw an object through the air which exploded in a sheet of flame nearby, before rolling down under the cover of the two pulse rifles toward the wounded. A few flechettes spattered off her shield to no effect.

Fei'nur's stealth held up. She was down among the attackers in an instant, and using first silenced gun and then knife began to methodically demolish them as Team Four retreated back toward the central column. Splashes of ichor and shattered carapace as knives found chinks and rifle made them, the Spectre demolished her enemies invisibly, sowing panic in them. Practicing to _survive_ encountering the Gaim had served her well.

Team Four was exfiltrating its own wounded back into the central position. Nah'dur went over the two wounded by the bomb. She paused, pale for a moment, at the question of _which one_ to pull back, as they were both bad off. But then Fera'xero was at her side.

"Surgeon-Commander, you could use a stretcher-bearer."

"I haven't any stretchers, Fera'xero, but here we are." And with that, Nah'dur grabbed the science tech and slung her over shoulders with her pistol out and barking to keep heads down. By contrast, Fera'xero could only half-drag the security man back, but he kept up with Nah'dur's frenetic sprint.

As they fell back, Fei'nur did too, but she left behind an annihilated attack force in a carnage of shattered limbs and bodies. The fire was still coming at them from the curved walls of buildings rising like droplets from the floor of the cave around them, where Numeraians in position fired up at them, but it didn't offer the same kind of cover as buildings above would have.

There had been sixteen, and four were wounded, two seriously. Nah'dur looked at her patients and then at her pistol, and spoke aloud, as though she were simply absolutely confident that Fei'nur was there as her broad feline eyes under that distinctive bob of red hair swept around, seeing clearly in the bioluminescence as a human might not, seeing the dashing groups of Numeraians converging.

"Battlemaster, thank you. We succeeded at our tactical objective of evacuating the wounded, but I am concerned that this has all the makings of a last stand."

"Fera'xero, try and get at least a pulse code through the jamming. Nah'dur, prepare your teams to attempt extraction!"

Nah'dur nodded and issued the order, and then dropped her voice. "Fei'nur, I have the samples. Someone really wanted us to not get those samples. Please take them and exfiltrate yourself beyond the perimeter of the jamming. You can send for help, and you can get the material they didn't want us to have, out."

" _Damn you_ , Nah'dur. Damn you for having your mother's pragmatic wit. _Hold_ , Nah, _hold_ , I _will_ be back. Samples, _now_ , seconds count." The Colonel's voice was thick with emotion.

Nah'dur handed them up and smiled. "I'm no more interested in dying than _she_ was. Give me your rifle, Fei?" Fire cracked into the cemented dirt around them.

Appearing was a combat pack, ammunition, and rifle, as the samples vanished. A quick feeling of a hug was the last Nah'dur felt, before there was a soft; "Good hunting."

Nah'dur checked the rifle and looked around at her group. She had thirteen effectives, two of them wounded, and there must be around two hundred Numeraians shooting at them. She sighted down the barrel of the rifle on which Fei'nur had taught her to shoot quite a long time ago, and caressed the familiar trigger. A Numeraian clinging to a building toppled off in a desperate screaming skitter of legs still trying to work.

"Fera'xero, make sure the drones are still up and focus them on covering us from being flanked!" The Surgeon-Commander was unquestionably in command of the defence as she adjusted the positions of what was really a squad.

"Commander, I've got three hundred and sixty degree coverage."

"Then I'll synch with my omnitool for targeting…" She watched as a holographic heads-up display was projected from the omnitool that automatically adjusted for the capabilities of even the old but highly effective rifle in her hands, a derivative of a Centauri make. Crosshairs centred around another Numeraian and she fired again. "Synch your omnitools to the drones and project targeting aids!" She ordered, mostly for the effect of the science techs who weren't trained in the technique. Even as she spoke she focused in on another target with the assistance of the drones and fired again. Another Numeraian dropped.

As Fei'nur reached the bottom of the hill, she did what she could to make the odds better for the young woman she had raised from a kit. She didn't have her rifle, but she had her knives. A squad of Numeraians pressing in on the flank of Nah'dur's position disintegrated into a flurry of ichor and death as she passed through them, not sparing even a second to come to a stop as she escaped, because even one second could be one second too late-but that didn't stop her from descending on them like a ghost and killing or maiming or wounding a half-dozen as she passed through them.

Above Fei'nur on the hill, Nah'dur made the familiar sound of her rifle bark again. As long as it was firing when she returned, all was well.

On the bridge, Zhen'var and Arterus reached their stations at the same time.

"Report!" Zhen'var's voice cracked across the bridge as she moved in a beeline to her command chair.

* * *

Will Atreiad, on duty as the ship's XO and tired, bags under his eyes, but now sharply alert, rose to give Zhen'var the chair, finishing off the last of his coffee. "Captain, we just received a burst transmission from Colonel Fei'nur. Nah'dur's team is pinned down inside the city under attack by hundreds of insurgents. They're being jammed. Once we knew what to look for, we were able to pinpoint the jamming field. It's preventing comms and transport. She wants the QRF and fast movers, ASAP."

"We can launch Alert Five and have fast movers over the city in eight minutes, Captain," Stasia Héen's voice came in over tactical comms from her position in PriFly.

"Do it, Chief. Comms, deconflict with the other ships… and prepare to Away the Reaction Force, with alacrity! Major Richards, bring _everything_!"

"We're going to need a secure perimeter to bring down the tanks since they can't beam manned," Major Richards answered from tactical control in the Marine wing.

"Can we have the wing secure the perimeter?" Will asked as the tactical plot was brought up by Elia as her first action on arriving on the bridge straight from sleep. She was somehow as perfectly made up as ever. That let Will point to the tunnel entrances. "We could establish a clear perimeter and attack anyone who moves into it."

"Chief Héen?" She threw the question to the Air Boss; not the Wing leader who was still in the midst of scrambling and sorting out his squadrons.

"Each ready bird launched with two cluster bomblet dispensers, Captain, precisely for CAS. We could do it. Need some way to warn people to stay clear by the ROE."

"Options, everyone?" Zhen'var was throwing problems at her subordinates, and trusting them to come up with solutions.

"We can beam drones down first to warn the locals," Janice answered. "I'll start implementing immediately."

"As soon as the drones are in place, we'll prep the cargo transporters for the tanks and then execute as soon as the ready flight is in position to intervene," Elia answered.

"Execute immediately."

"Roger that, Captain," Janice answered. "Ops, stand by for drone transport tags…"

 _Come on, come on…_ Zhen'var quietly murmured a prayer inside her own thoughts, as Fei'nur, her mission completed, had reversed course, sprinting back the way she came.

"Drone transport complete," Elia reported. "We have an incoming communication from Secretary Yulassana's ship."

"Put her on my side screen. What is our estimated time over target?"

"Two minutes, thirty seconds. I cleared them, Captain, but they're not cleared hot yet," Stasia answered.

The Gersallian Undersecretary appeared on splitscreen, looking furious. "Captain, I don't know what you're doing, but I must make it clear, _under no circumstances_ can you damage the integrity of that city. It's a critical base of support for the National Transitional Council. Firing into it and opening it to light would be a grave act by Numeraian morality."

"Undersecretary, I have troops in contact and multiple wounded, they are under heavy attack and on the verge of being overwhelmed. I am deploying my QRF. Unless you wish me to ask for help from the Empire or League forces, we are at _extreme_ risk of losing the entire survey team under those restrictions."

"A survey team may be a necessary price for peace," Yulassana answered. "I am truly sorry, Captain, but you must not damage the city."

Zhen'var's claws scraped across her armrests, and her lips pressed into a flat, thin line. " _Huascar_ Actual, Out." She killed the connection herself. "They can courts-martial me if it becomes necessary. Alternatives?"

They were looking around uncomfortably at each other. Stasia broke the silence, thinking back to her life in the opening years of the 21st century and all the lore of that time. An idea hit her. "As much as I hate to set someone else up for a shit job, Captain, why not have the tanks do a thunder run to reinforce their position?" She added, quietly: "Ready flight capping." Nobody had told Stasia to stop working, after all.

"Transporting tanks now," Elia affirmed. This was the _Huáscar,_ they didn't need _orders_ to do their jobs.

"It is an acceptable plan. Keep the ready flight orbiting on station as long as possible."

"We have armed locals approaching the tanks, Captain!" Stasia's voice pitched more urgently. She brought up the drone footage which showed Numeraians dashing and covering toward them before the entrance to the city. As she did she was saying "continue continue continue" in the background to the pilots who had asked for weapons release authority, indicating directives to maintain holding pattern and not engage.

"Combat beam-ins commenced," Elia stripped everything from her speech except that needed to convey the urgency of the situation.

"Ground forces are fire free. Wing, I need craft down there with weapons that _will not_ cause structural damage."

"They can't establish a perimeter in time, Captain," Elia went to the wide-screen view of the drones as a tactical output. "Does the Wing have permission to engage hostiles on the surface?"

"They _cannot_ damage the hive. With that restriction, they may engage!"

"You are cleared hot for popcorn," Stasia directed immediately with her old-school headphones fixed over her hair in the glass dome of PriFly.

The Ready Flight lead was Lieutenant Artesia. "Four-Eee Lead," she identified herself, meaning SC-4 Flight Epsilon, "to PriFly Actual, we confirm, cleared hot for popcorn." She flipped to her inter-bird channel. "We're rolling hot-popcorn only. Arm and confirm."

As the chorus came back, she brought them around on heading November Echo zero-five two. "Engage as fragged," she ordered, bringing up her tactical display that linked to the drones. Cluster munitions were assigned to individual areas of armed activity, she could even see the guns firing as they engaged Major Richards' QRF. Her in-flight computers confirmed targeting assignments and adjusted the cluster munitions pattern. The HUD indicator went red.

"Pickle One." Her leftside cluster munition dispenser flushed eighty taclink guided grenade-sized bombs whose fins popped out and began to guide them into the pattern. Engines roaring the four fighters completed their attack with a scream in the distant sky.

Eighteen seconds later, the bomblets, "popcorn", started to detonate in a crackling series of explosions, sparks and smoke around the beam-in position of the QRF.

"Check turn one-eighty left." Artesia brought the wing back around as the smoke cleared and activated the short-range taclink. "Motown," she addressed Janice by her code name, "this is Ready Lead. Are you clear?"

"Hostiles neutralized Four-eee, we are clear."

"Four-eee to Flight, cease fire and cap."

"Targets neutralized, the QRF is assuming defensive positions and Leftenant Har'un's tankers are mounting up, Captain," Elia reported with quiet satisfaction.

"Shastra se shakti. They are released to push to the survey team's location with all dispatch."

"Confirmed," Major Richards reported. "We'll follow them in, Captain."

Will and Elia exchanged a glance. Elia looked at her chrono. "Twelve minutes since we went to alert, Captain."

"Thank you, Commander." Her hands had not moved from where they clutched her armrests all the while. In a firefight as had been reported, that was an _eternity_.

"The tanks are going in." The viewscreen flashed to the drone view showing the three massive beasts, repainted in Alliance Marine colours, lunging into the tunnel.

"Gods help them," Will muttered under his breath.

* * *

When Fei'nur had reached the column, she could see the chatter of many rifles around her as the Numeraians fired into the base of the column. She could see, still, the sharp, crisp shots of the rifles from the top. The drones had been taken out, all except for one, Fera'xero's personal drone-but one was enough, the rifles kept methodically taking shots and kept methodically killing. Fei'nur had not been too late to get back. The Surgeon-Commander had now held her position for twenty minutes-thirteen against hundreds, she had done well by any measure, but there were fitfully few in the way of rifles still shooting, and the enemy pressed closer and closer.

Her eyes swept the scene - it was taken in with a moment's pause, then she was moving again, scrambling up. One of the enemy with a proper long range weapon, or a satchel of grenades... that would be her first target. She had to turn the situation, and _fast_.

She saw a knot that had been delivering a barrage of rocket-grenades while working a light squad weapon, and moved toward them decisively. The fire kept up a methodical tempo from the base of the column, so accurate that they were firing slowly, aimed shots that didn't miss, to conserve ammunition.

It was a movement of second nature, her first knife slipping into her hand… She moved, low and quick, from cover to cover, using the noise of combat to mask her approach. Close enough for a final rush, then _contact_ , as she lept, the first strike sinking deep between chitinous plates. Already she was moving, the blade yanked free by her off-hand and another striking for another of the gun crew.

It was a massacre in stealth. Wounded Numeraians retreating, chittering in fear, the entire line in that area again quieted as the ghost returned, this invisible figure who had been tearing through them before, and now returned to tear through them again. Stumbling away from where Fei'nur was, it left her a free path with the weapons to the top of the scree slope.

Fei'nur lost no time in grabbing the launcher and as much ammunition as she could, lifting it with a grunt, displacing from the scene of slaughter she had created… for another firing point. _Fire and move before they counter..._

Arriving at the best firing point she could, the gunfire against the position of Nah'dur and her team was starting to increase again, as the Numeraians recovered their situational awareness and once more pressed the attack.

 _Burn._ She opened fire, three rounds, as quick as she could, then displaced at a run, targeting enemy heavy weapons. Once clear, she fired again, then repeated the tactic.

Against any lesser concentration of numbers, she might have single-handedly defeated the attack, but now, crawling over the bodies of others, Numeraians continued to push closer to the position of the Surgeon-Commander and her technicians and Marine guards on the unengaged side of the column, even as Fei'nur worked her way around, disrupting the attack as best she could.

 _This is not going to work…_ Fei'nur thought to herself, almost in despair, as she read the tactical situation. _There has to be an enemy command group for coordination…_ Working blind, she tried to use her omnitool to trace Numeraian tactical signals. She found there were none, though there was a troubling anomaly that the omnitool kept trying to classify as a chemical weapon.

It was enough for her to activate the built in filtering she had been given, which replaced most of her sinuses. _Pheremone-driven communication, like other insects… Nah'dur will be interested later._ It was an idle thought as she, in that moment, wished Aururian weapons had power cells that overloaded as easily as Klingon disruptors.

Then there was a rumbling in the distance, growing swiftly louder. It was familiar to her heart and soul, it was the brutal, churning, clanking, grinding of a heavy tank. And it was drawing very rapidly closer to her. A moment later, a distinctive, hideous sound of a heavy disruptor cannon tore through the air and disturbed the bioluminescence around her.

Her heart surged. This close… "This is Shovel. Stand by for tac-link."

"Shovel, this is Panzer!" Leftenant Har'un's voice came through. But it scarcely needed introductions. The shattering and crashing sounds of the deflector shields on the tanks having been configured like cattle catches and plows on locomotives, battering aside any vehicles in their way as they charged down the streets, was soon clearly heard. The main guns weren't firing, but the pulse disruptors used as light guns on the tanks were firing continuously at anyone armed that came within sight of their HUDs.

"We'll be at your position in two minutes, Ma'am! This city isn't big!" One of the tanks power-skidded through a turn with one track locking, bashing two cars outside of the way with its deflector shields, setting off airbags and crumpling metal. Now it was lined up in a straight shot to the column.

People were fleeing absolutely as fast as they could, emptying the streets and running. Soon there were no more vehicle impacts because there was no more left in their way as the tanks rushed onwards.

"Painting targets, Panzer. Friendlies marked." Fei'nur's clipped voice came back. She knew by the original plan that the power armour company would be following. "Fire free."

The tanks zoomed down the radial streets that converged with the column, and now they opened up once more, firing as they drove, tracking and engaging with both of their light guns each, the one normally for anti-air/anti-missile and the anti-personnel cannon. Flames and searing energy criss-crossed the battlefield from the disruptors until the tanks rushed out toward the column and began to circle it into defensive positions, firing as they did.

On top of the hill, the firing slacked. Nah'dur, fastidious and practical, put down the rifle and picked up her medikit. All of a sudden, they had gone from barely hanging on to a surfeit of firepower. They had gone from hopeless, personal shields down, to an overwhelming position.

"We are in position, Shovel!"

"Prepare to extract multiple wounded! Hold the perimeter via fire!" Fei'nur was clambering up the column as quickly as she could. "This is Shovel, away team, give me a status report!"

"Seven C-200's, two tulips," Nah'dur's voice answered methodically. "I'm treating everyone."

By now there was no more shooting in the city. As the power-armour came charging down, the attackers melted into the mass of the fleeing and hiding civilians. Except for the howling of automated alarms and the confused warnings of loudspeakers to seek shelter, a kind of brief silence, punctuated by occasional shots and by the whine of the tank engines, now fell over the entire hive-city.

"Shovel to White, prepare for emergency evacuation of the survey team! We will investigate the scene."

There was still static from the jamming. But now, Elia's voice came through. The powerful transmitters on the tanks could burn through, partially. "White Actual to Shovel, you're going to evac them by ground, we still can't beam."

"Understood! QRF, prepare detachment to evacuate casualties! Scan your local areas and gather what evidence you can!"

The personnel from the QRF went to work securing the perimeter as a group brought up the light tactical vehicles to evacuate casualties. Major Richards stepped up to Fei'nur and saluted. "We came as quick as we could, Colonel."

"I know. We have losses. We need to get them to beam-up as quickly as possible. Back the way you came is quickest, but they might attempt another attack. Unlikely, however. Opinions?" Clipped and sharp, the old Spectre was taking in the scene and weighing her options.

"The faster we move the better. Do we have what we came for? Let's bug out, Colonel. Unless they left anyone for us to interrogate, but I doubt it."

"I will sweep. Thank you, Major. Be ready to depart as soon as the Surgeon clears us to."

"Understood." Above them Nah'dur was supervising loading the casualties. Now that she came into view, it was clear she had understated a few things; she actually had a bandage wrapped around one of her arms, with blood leaking through it, but seemed completely unaffected.

Fei'nur snapped holos, grabbing samples and weapons for later study, working her way up towards Nah'dur.

"Colonel," she nodded almost formally as she got another casualty secured, and then looked up with guileless eyes. "Are you proud of me?"

All Fei'nur could get out, seeing Nah'dur wounded, but having kept her team alive, was a silent, jerky nod of affirmation.

"It's nothing. I'll run the dermal regenerator on it on the way back so I can start the surgeries myself," Nah'dur answered mildly, and then reached with her good hand for the grab-iron. "Shrapnel from a rocket grenade, that's all. They managed to burn through my personal shield, you know."

"Of course. We… will speak later, Nah'dur."

* * *

On the bridge of the _Huáscar,_ there was no time for the tension to lessen. Elia's lips were tightly pursed as she looked to Zhen'var. "Captain, the Imperial fleet has raised shields."

"Get me communications before this escalates further, please." Tension underlay the command, as Zhen'var frowned darkly.

"Commander Huáscar, this is Admiral Afyhova. You have conducted an engagement against the surface of Garatnam. Why?"

"A scientific survey team was attacked by a heavily-armed and numerous unknown force inside a hive under the Xiteran Plateau, Admiral. I deployed my Quick Reaction Force to attempt a rescue. The survivors are being extracted now." Her voice was clipped and quick.

"You have my condolences for the attack, Captain Zhen'var. However, one of my duties is to insure the safety and security of the Numeraian people. You have informed me that the sovereignty of this planet remains under the League. Why didn't the League respond instead of your forces, Captain? Why didn't Admiral Bonnet respond?"

"The situation devolved rapidly, Admiral, and the Alliance is providing security for League forces during the final period before their withdrawal."

"If the League cannot maintain order on the planet, then they do not have effective sovereignty over it, Captain!" As though to someone just outside of the audio pickup, and very intentionally so that her own voice _was_ in the audio pickup, she spoke again immediately. "Move the Task Force into orbit of Garatnam and prepare the Fleet Marine Forces for a landing. I want a brigade on the planet in one hour and the full division on the planet in eight."

Zhen'var's finger reached for a button on the arm of her chair. An ear-piercing klaxon began to sound. " _Admiral_ , if you take this action, I shall be forced to interpose my ship between yourself and the planet. My orders are _explicitly_ clear. The situation on the planet _is under control_."

"You are killing Numeraians, Captain. That is not _under control._ "

"I was not going to leave my crew members to die." Zhen'var was being forced onto the defensive, and she _hated_ it. This entire mission had pushed her to the back foot and kept her there.

There was a pause, and the feed was good enough to pick up the sound of the Malagasy Admiral's breathing. "Very well," she said after a moment, perhaps having put herself in Zhen'var's position emotionally. Perhaps having been deterred by the prospect of a fight with the Alliance. Perhaps both. "Let me see if there is any information we can provide you about the attack."

Elia almost physically sagged in relief at her post. A slow string of tension started to ease from the bridge.

"Your help would be appreciated, Admiral. Operations, stand the ship down to Condition Two until the survivors and QRF are back aboard, thence resume Condition Three." She didn't let the relief _show_ , but they had come _dangerously_ close to a war.

"Now, Comms, please get me the Deputy Undersecretary. I will take it in my ready room." _Time to pay the piper…_


	39. Episode 7 Act 6

**Act 6**

Yulassana looked like the legendary calmness of a Gersallian had been badly impacted by the recent events when her image formed on the holo about five minutes later. "Captain Zhen'var?" She asked almost hesitantly.

"Deputy Undersecretary." She nodded her head sharply. "The science team was extracted with two fatalities. The Imperial squadron has been held off by threat, for now. The local situation is, in a word, catastrophic."

"...To put it mildly. Do you believe it was instigated by the Aururians, then? Shall we begin to coordinate with Admiral Bonnet to hold the planet? I could go over to the Aururian flagship and negotiate for us, Captain…"

"I believe someone wishes us to, ma'am. As to whether it _was_ , that is less certain. I would _not_ have confidence in such an assertion at present."

Yulassana took a breath, and looked at Zhen'var narrowly. "Captain, powerful people back home want us to be friends with the League. Regardless of what the facts on the ground are."

"I do not think a friendship built on a foundation of lies is one worth having, ma'am. Once my teams are back aboard, I will be attempting to move forward with decolonization support, as per my orders." Her voice was deceptively calm.

"You will keep your tripwire forces in place on the planet?"

"As long as they can carry out their mission, yes. I will regenerate my quick reaction force as rapidly as I can, Madame Deputy Undersecretary."

"When will you have the results of the analysis? The Surgeon-Commander's, I mean."

"She was also wounded, as soon as she can be spared to give me an estimate, it shall be shared." While she understood the impatience, Nah'dur _was_ also her best surgeon.

"I understand, and you have my condolences about the entire situation, Captain… But if violence begins on the surface of the planet at this point it is now very unlikely that we will be able to keep it from spiralling.

Zhen'var's expression stiffened. "If open violence begins, the Aururians _will_ land, ma'am. I _cannot_ stop them. What we are at in orbit is now as the surface; a tripwire that will not stop what-ever force trips it."

"Then ask the Aururians what we need to do to make sure that we secure the independence of Garatnam," Yulassana answered, plainly. "It is our shared objective, after all."

"You may not like the answer, ma'am, but I shall get it for you."

"I can _work_ with the answer, Captain. Let's not let Garatnam down."

"I understand. Until later." Zhen'var would wait for the connection to drop, before letting out a soft sigh. "Communications, I need a channel with Admiral Afyhova, without any other vessels outside her fleet knowing."

"Let me speak with Commander Poniatowska for a moment, Captain," Bor'erj answered from the comms section.

"Thank you, Ensign." While she waited, she sent a normal-priority request for updates to Nah'dur's omnitool.

The evacuees had reached an evac transport, since some were not stable enough to be recovered via transporter, and were now on their way to the ship. _We'll be able to begin surgeries in five minutes,_ Nah'dur said cheerfully when she got the alert.

 _Thank you. We have just almost gone to war with the Aururians, so your original mission retains a priority second only to life-saving._ Was the admittedly somewhat terse reply sent back.

 _Oh, well, I don't want to go to war with them! Don't worry, I think I can save everyone._

 _Thank you, Nah'dur. I will buy you the time you need._ Dropping the connection, Captain Zhen'var reached for her mug and cradled it, leaning back in her chair. It never seemed simple for her ship, never at all…

"Message coming in for you from the _Resolution,_ Captain," Elia's voice sounded over the intercom. "We've got the link secure."

"Thank you, Commander. Link it to my Ready Room terminal." Straightening, Zhen'var squared herself to face the pickup. She was _not_ a diplomat… but, just perhaps, she could avert the conflict that seemed to threaten to erupt over this world.

"Captain, we speak again rather quickly." Afyhova looked like she was in her own ready room and perhaps completely alone, which would help, perhaps.

"We do, and on a more pleasant note, I _hope_. I wish to extend an invitation to you; to present the terms under which that your Empire would support the independence of Garantam." It was the first time the Aururians had even been _consulted_ in the matter.

Afyhova was actually silent for a moment, staring sharply at Zhen'var. Then, a faint smile touched her lips. "Of course, Captain. We want the Assembly of Queens to have the ability to veto the sale of land or mining rights on the surface, and the assumption of foreign debt. If the constitution of the National Transitional Council is amended to include those terms, specifically that the Assembly will include _all_ the Queens, regardless of their political orientation, then we have a basis to be confident that the government of Garatnam is protecting the interests of the Numeraian people."

Zhen'var's expression froze for a moment. "That… is all?" Disbelief coloured her voice. That seemed so _simple_ to her, at least. Perhaps she was mistaken, but… _Oh. The conservative and reformer divide. That is likely the issue_.

"Of course, we want guarantees Garatnam's system will not be used by League forces. But that is a matter between the two of our nations," Afyhova said modestly. "Yes, we are satisfied the Numeraian Queens will find their own way to protect their people, if they are given the chance to. The concern is that the brave women who have ruled their hives by custom for centuries, whom we have worked with to free their people, were seeing themselves be sold into economic slavery under the simulcra of independence. Our intention is merely to preserve for them their freedom of action and thus the liberty of the Numeraians. They have committed not to resort to arms in that case, and so we will satisfy our own obligations viz. the planet, since their hives were who we armed."

"May I have a moment with the representatives of my government to communicate your terms, Admiral?" _It seems a breakthrough, if the NTC will accept it… if._

"If you want, but the Ambassador in Portland communicated those terms a month ago," Afyhova sniffed. "I am sorry, Captain, but your government has not left you in an enviable position. It seems they were led astray by the slick League briefings on the drug production problem on the surface."

The Dilgar woman's face visibly fell. "I… see. I shall still make the utmost effort at a local resolution, Admiral, even if it may take longer than I had hoped." She was holding the situation together by the tips of her demi-claws, barely, and was unsure how much _longer_ she could.

"I will give you your time. We can wait. We have requested the Queens not make any moves, and they assented."

"If they have any information regarding the attack upon my survey team…" Her voice grew leaden as she glanced down to Fei'nur's initial report. "The attackers were armed with Imperial weapons, Admiral."

"I am not surprised. Send me the serial numbers and I am sure I can match them to weapons captured by the League during our past wars. Might I remind you that probably a million or more small arms have fallen into their hands in major battles? We have not been victorious in every fight, and even in a victory the enemy may capture some of our arms," she answered, looking sincere. "Of course, they've probably been burned off."

"You understand the optics of the situation, I am sure. I shall communicate your terms, and if you wish, we can continue the negotiations in person, aboard your ship?" Trying to show trust, for now, _this_ was the danger point in space. The planet was another matter entirely.

"That's agreeable. You'll bring the Undersecretary?"

"That is my intention, correct. Thank you for your kind forebearance thus far, Admiral Afyhova. My communications officer will be in contact. We will speak again shortly." As soon as the connection dropped, she was back on her console; "Captain to Flight Operations, please prepare my yacht for departure. Communications, get me Deputy Undersecretary Yulassana once again, please. Commander Atreiad, I will be departing the ship for negotiations."

"On it, Captain," Stasia's voice came back. "We'll have you ready to go in twenty minutes."

"I'll update the Watch rotation," Will Atreiad answered back.

"Deputy Undersecretary on your line, Captain," Bor'erj reported.

"Well done, thank you." Her expression was guarded when the comms-line flickered back into view. "Deputy Undersecretary, I have the Aururian terms, and have arranged on your behalf an in-person negotiation with Admiral Afyhova. My yacht is being prepared for the two of us to depart."

"Thank you, Captain. I will beam aboard and meet you at your yacht, then," she answered after a moment. "I am thankful you were able to obtain the willingness of the Aururians to meet."

"We will speak once you arrive, ma'am." Zhen'var's voice was starting to show some of the stress she was feeling, being balanced on a knife-edge so long. As she cut the connection and moved to get her dress uniform, the Dilgar woman shook her head slightly. It was getting harder and harder to divine the true motives of everyone around.

* * *

Meanwhile, Nah'dur had arrived back on the _Huáscar._ Having already run the dermal regenerator until her wound was healed, she flexed confidently at it, sprayed over with plastic synthflesh to keep the regenerated tissue from cracking open. It hurt, and it was a bright hairless pink blazon across her arm, but it was fully functional.

"Commander Fera'xero?"

"Surgeon-Commander?" The Quarian Science officer looked back.

"My team can prep the surgery. Let's get the samples started before I go in for the first one, it won't slow it down, and you can finish the analytics while I'm in the surgical theatre."

"You think it's that important?" Fera'xero's vocoder flashed.

"I believe it is a matter of objective fact that it is so important," Nah'dur replied. "Possibly far more important than the lives of anyone I'm operating on, though don't repeat that, please."

"...Of course, Surgeon-Commander. Let's get started."

"Good!" She was already off at a brisk pace to the biohazard lab. "Even all that said, we don't have much time."

Fera'xero had mixed feelings about the biohazard lab. A suit breach there was definitely instant death, but on the other hand, it also put all of the other humanoids on equal terms with him. He followed, shaking his head at the young Dilgar. _She_ was not afraid of the biohazard lab. Their universal vaccine remained a source of wonder, awe, and for Quarians, envy.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Zhen'var's Captain's yacht was pushing off from the _Huáscar,_ with Yulassana seated by her in the travel lounge. It was a short trip, with warp drive.

"The short briefing, Madame Undersecretary, is that the Aururians want certain traditional rights of the Queens protected as part of the constitutional regime after their Assembly can exercise a veto upon the assumption of external debt, or upon the sale of land and mining rights on the surface of the planet. Their suspicion comes from them having communicated these terms to Portland a month ago, and having received no reply to them." She spoke quickly, accent rising and falling.

"A decision was made that the Aururian terms were anti-democratic and that by working closely with the League we could successfully transition Garatnam to independence without consenting to those terms," Yulassana answered, finally admitting to the background behind the entire affair. "So here we are."

"Aururian negotiation, Colonel Fei'nur tells me, rarely involves retreating from a formal position. Once it is so stated, so it remains, to be accepted or rejected." Her shoulders visibly slumped. It had seemed so simple to _her_.

"You are really upset about this, Captain," Yulassana said softly, maybe even a little wondering. The Mess Tech on the yacht brought them both tea, the Gersallian woman looking thoughtfully at the Dilgar for a while.

"It had seemed a very simple solution, given my own complex history and the cultures I have known. India was birthed in agreements of accession, as were elements of the Imperium." The Dilgar woman paused, and sipped at her tea. "I have no interest in being the Captain responsible for starting an inter-universal war, Madame Deputy Undersecretary."

"You're an interesting case in the Alliance, Captain. There are some who think the concession of appointing you was too great, that you are too friendly to autocrats and laws which lead to bad ends. There are others who think you are too soft. Your appointment was at a high level for diplomatic purposes, and of course, some people have second thoughts at Warmaster Shai'jhur's structure of government, and at the independence of her policy. Your late exploits have definitely made your name known in Portland as one of a dozen or so of our active Starship Captains who make waves."

"Not all states…" She paused. " _Why_ is a monarchy with a constitution guiding it considered so ill? Sometimes autocrats create _good_ ends, when the situation is unfortunate enough. What we must do is _manage_ the transition back to one founded in freedom and natural law, for autocracy has never _stayed_ good. My family, we _are_ aristocrats, if relatively minor ones. My thoughts should be expected, should they not? I seek to follow my oaths and my orders."

"I don't know… Yes, harmony is better. Customs are better followed than abrogated. It's a complicated situation, Captain. Numeraian Queens are far more intelligent and capable than their specialised children, but the hive population is still individually sapient. They came from insects that were not quite as controlled as stereotypical species of ants or bees, they are like, ironically considering the connection with Aururia, Australian bees in that case. So there is a certain measure of resentment by the social reformers the League created toward involvement of the Queens in politics. Namely because the majority of a hive-city's population _will_ vote in lockstep with the Queen, trusting her to have the best judgement, it happened that way during past experiments the League conducted in allowing limited self-government, so they ended them, which started the insurrection."

"By which you mean, the NTC will find such a concession nearly intolerable, do you not?" Zhen'var's face was stiff. "Not to mention the League."

"You are correct," Yulassana affirmed. "You are correct."

"Captain, we're approaching the _Resolution_ now," the yacht's Dorei pilot reported from ahead on the flight deck.

"We are talking, at least. If we can get something from that…" Zhen'var fell silent and tugged her uniform straight. "We must, for _Huáscar_ cannot hold against them alone."

"I will do my very best, Captain. Thank you. You have been a better exemplar of our virtues than I have been, so far, on this mission." She rose. "Let us."

* * *

The Aururians met them with a full side party. Captain Kerolit led it. She regarded Zhen'var sharply and crisply, her own broad, purple eyes almost catlike as well, ears sticking through hair, tail swishing. They had swords and dress uniforms in the old style. The Ralsans and the indigenous Aururians stood together as sisters, a single uniform, a single service, speaking English as their language of command. It was gloriously weird, and it was a sisterhood of arms.

Stiffening sharply, Zhen'var clicked her heels together. "Permission to come aboard Her Majesty's Ship?" Voice pitched to carry, her gloved hand made a motion, as it would have if her Dilgar blade had been drawn up in salute before her.

"Permission granted. Welcome to the Admiral Afyhova's hospitality, Captain." She raised a gloved hand of her own in a tipped salute and the whistle blew and the side-party announced her. Then Captain Kerolit fell in alongside the two, walking with them. "The Admiral extends her compliments and thanks you for proposing the meeting aboard _Resolution,_ and as her Captain I am honoured to be your hostess, Captain."

"Thank you. I wish to extend my apologies for not attending at the earlier invitation, if I may. I present Deputy Assistant Secretary for Peace Outreach Yulassana, whom you have certainly heard of, if not met. She is the ranking Alliance diplomat on the scene, and will be the primary negotiator."

"Deputy Assistant Secretary," Captain Kerolit gave a hint of a smile, showing her sharpened teeth. "A pleasure."

"Of course, Captain." Yulassana made a bow of greeting as they arrived at the meeting room, where Admiral Afyhova was waiting.

"Deputy Assistant Secretary," Afyhova clicked her heels and bowed in return. "Captain Zhen'var. A pleasure to meet you at last. Be seated, we have some tea and hors d'oeuvres for you."

"Thank you, Admiral. If the Almighty is kind, we may find success in our meeting this day." She moved to sit, beside Yulassana, whom she left the central seat across from the Aururian admiral.

"I don't want to go to war," Afyhova answered with plain bluntness. "It would be a terrible thing in every respect. But I am not going to leave Garatnam without ensuring that the planet is at peace and is free, either. Isn't the liberty of a world worth something?"

"Of course, Admiral. The Alliance has no wish for a war either. We share _objectives_ , at the least, do we not all agree?"

"That is so," Afyhova agreed. The tea was put around, and a plate of chicken satay placed in front of Zhen'var, a Gersallian dish for Yulassana. "Our terms were straightforward, Captain, Undersecretary. Why are they so unacceptable?"

"Because they would lead to the undermining of support for the National Transitional Council," Yulassana answered. "In an undemocratic fashion."

"If you held a plebiscite, the NTC would never have legitimate power," Afyhova answered drolly, drinking her own tea.

"Only if you allowed the Queens to endorse positions," Yulassana countered. "As figureheads of their hives they must be silent about politics to allow democracy to flourish."

Afyhova snorted softly. "In many third-world countries abandoned by the northern nations in the 21st century, the traditional monarchies continued to function because the people implicitly respected their rulers even when their legal power was stripped from them. Now you're telling me the Queens will be integrated into the system by banning their right to endorse political platforms, essentially making them slaves of the few ceremonial roles they will be given. Breeders for a people." She looked archly at Yulassana. "If they were merely private citizens, then the NTC would last until the first election. No more."

"The definition of democracy is… cultural." Zhen'var said, quite hesitant and wary. "It can still _be_ democracy."

Yulassana leaned back and looked at her. "The Alliance has accepted the very unique Dilgar democracy Warmaster Shai'jhur implemented, yes. Go on, Captain."

"Is it… possible for the Malaysian system, or… some form of…" She paused. "The Aururians want the Queens to have a voice. We do not wish them to _dominate_ the system. They must have power and debate amongst _themselves_ , a… legislative chamber, or ability to elect a… tribune?"

"The traditional function of the Queens is to preserve the integrity of the hive and the land on which it depends for its survival," Afyhova answered. "We are not, and have not, ever tried to make the system a collegial autocracy."

Zhen'var's omnitool chirped ominously, then. "Captain, it's Colonel Fei'nur."

Afyhova nodded significantly to Captain Kerolit.

"An Imperial Marshal has approached one of our forward posts with a group of Numeraians under arms and several more under guard. She says as she has an important message."

"... Go ahead and patch it through, if that will be acceptable. I am with the Deputy Undersecretary and the Aururian Admiral."

"That will be appropriate," Fei'nur answered after a pause. An Imperial Marshal was no-one to be trifled with.

"Captain Zhen'var," a very calm voice speaking Received Pronunciation came onto the line. "I am Marshal Kerowalas. I wish to turn over to you some prisoners involved in the attack on your forces. They have not been interrogated by my person or my forces, however, I do know the content of what your own interrogations will reveal. The League was behind the attack on your forces."

The Dilgar Captain's face visibly twisted in a real concern, as she turned her gaze to the Gersallian woman beside her. "It is a serious charge, one that you understand we must confirm with our own people, Marshal."

"That's why I am handing the prisoners over to you, Captain," the Marshal answered, unperturbed. Very faintly the woman might seem Ralsan from her accent, but of course a Ralsan could be an Imperial Marshal too.

"Thank you, Marshal. You have… been most helpful. Admiral, I believe the Deputy Undersecretary and I must withdraw for consultations, if we may…?" The reason _why_ they would have risked so much… still eluded Zhen'var, but she had a rapidly growing suspicion.

"I am sorry our visit was short. I hope you enjoyed the chai and the satay, at least." Afyhova nodded to Captain Kerolit, who rose.

"It was quite excellent, thank you." She rose, and nodded politely, before heading back where they had came. As soon as the hatch cycled closed, Zhen'var _growled_ in frustration. "I have a _concern_ that the survey team will find something _very worrisome_ , ma'am."

"Like what?" Yulassana was clearly very tense. "Do you really believe this allegation in the slightest?"

"If it is, and I must plan on it being so, as such would be the worst-case… the original plan of whom-ever is attempting to arrange this, would have, I think, likely have been for our deployment of the agent to be the catalyst for conflict."

Yulassana's face turned grim and cool. "How long will it take Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur to have a result, then?"

"She had begun work before I left the ship; my science officer is currently running tests while she is attempting to save the lives of the other survey team members, Deputy Underscretary." The stress was getting to her, by how her voice held an edge to it.

"My apologies." She stiffened. "But we may soon have many further casualties here."

* * *

Nah'dur came out of the first operation looking tired, but the expression vanished the moment that she saw Fera'xero standing there. She started pulling off her scrubs. "You have data so soon, Commander?"

"Yes, Surgeon-Commander, I do. It's very simple, actually. The enzyme the League wants us to destroy will, if the retrovirus is allowed to spread through the planet, destroy the structural integrity of the bio-concrete in the hives. It's still, in a sense, alive, through the bacterial growth, and the enzyme is still reactive. This proposed retrovirus would cause uncontrolled corrosion of the hives' walls, columns, and other structural members. It would literally rot every hive-city on Garatnam out if we deployed it."

Nah'dur sniffed sharply through her button-nose. "That is about what I thought."

"The Captain returned in great haste, and got back about five minutes ago. Shall we go report?"

"Of course," Nah'dur answered, taking the flimsy from him and abandoning taking off the rest of her scrubs. "Nurse Terixamu, delay the next surgery thirty minutes, it can wait! Get the other two into stasis. I have a genocide to prevent."

* * *

Three minutes later, Nah'dur breezed onto the bridge with Fera'xero and chimed the door to the ready room where Zhen'var and Yulassana had returned. "Captain, we have our results!"

"Come ahead, Commanders." Zhen'var's voice betrayed her stress, though she masked her frustration with the diplomatic corps reasonably well in the calm expression she wore.

The two stepped in together. "I will be brief with you, Captain," Nah'dur said urgently. "Destroying the enzyme will literally make the bio-concrete of all the Garatnam cities rot. It's a living system, if you remove the enzyme the bacteria in it will tear it apart, break it down. The structural strength of the cities will literally rot." She flung the flimsy down on the table, almost vibrating.

"By the Almighty, Nah'dur, this… this…" Horrified eyes swung to the Gersallian woman. "If the League refuses to withdraw after we refuse to use _this_ , I am tempted to open fire, ma'am!"

Yulassana sank back in her chair slowly. Even to a Gersallian, she was completely shocked, and rather deflated. "That corroboration, that's more important than actual interrogations, isn't it? To know what they really intended?"

"It is. Shall I contact Portland, or act immediately, ma'am? I know our orders come from very high in the government."

"Act immediately," Yulassana swallowed. "I will defend you, Captain."

"Of course, Deputy Underscretary. Captain to Bridge! _Set Condition One_ , get me the Aururian fleet! I shall be on the bridge shortly! Colonel Fei'nur should prepare her forces for possible operation against hostile forces. Order the courier to break orbit and move to the outer system with dispatch!"

"Back to medbay for me!" Nah'dur answered, looking chuffed. "First genocide prevented!" She shook her fist in the air before she ran off, as Fera'xero moved to take his post with the Captain.

Still in her dress whites, Zhen'var burst onto the bridge at a jog, as the alarm klaxons began to sound. "Possible threat is the _League squadron and ground forces_ , comrades! Stand to it!"

That left her looking far more military and professional than the rest of her crew as she settled into her command chair and the _Huáscar_ rapidly came to quarters. Elia looked down at her from Ops. "Captain, the possible target is the _League_ squadron?" She bit it off, though; "Admiral Afyhova coming through for you on main comms."

"Thank you. _Admiral_ , I am _inviting_ your squadron to join me in orbit. This also serves as notice that the terms presented by you during our discussion are acceptable." From the last time they had met, Zhen'var looked far more confident and put-together. Her doubts were gone.

"You found out something about Garatnam, I take it, Captain? I will not turn you down." She turned to the side and started crisply addressing Captain Kerolit for a moment before looking back.

"You may say so. I do not intend to encrypt my communications with Admiral Bonnet. I _do_ ask for your restraint, Admiral." Her black demi-claws were out, and pressed tightly into the stone of her armrests.

"Of course," Afyhova said, and there was a twinkle in her eye and almost a wink. "We will conform to your movements, Captain."

"Thank you, Admiral." She cut the connection. "The League's anti-drug agent would have resulted in the rot and collapse of the structure of every hive city on the planet." Zhen'var announced, glancing around at her crew on the bridge. "We have as yet unproven claims they were also responsible for the attack upon our survey team to prevent the discovery of this effect. They _will_ be withdrawing from this system, one way or another. It is possible, perhaps even likely, Admiral Bonnet is not aware of this."

Elia sucked in her breath sharply. "It would have guaranteed total war between the Aururian Empire and the Alliance," she said, gaining her composure first, perhaps because telepaths were so used to bad things happening.

"And painted the Dilgar with an old and bloody brush; the willing agents of xenocide." There was an audible _scrape_ as her fingers clenched. "Someone _wished_ that to happen. Whom, we are not aware as yet. You may draw your own conclusions, but we have our orders. This world _shall be free_."

"When the Aururian fleet enters orbit, the League is sure to go to stations," Elia warned, noting the thermal spikes commencing on the League ships.

"I know. Our timing just be precise. Get me a channel to their squadron, no encryption, as soon as we are cleared for action."

Elia looked at her indicator as the counter went down.

"We're prepping the side launch tubes for a mass fighter strike," Stasia reported over the horn.

"...Green across the board," Elia confirmed a moment later.

"Hail _Justicia,_ Comms." Zhen'var forced herself to sit still in her command chair, gaze looking across at the main screen rather than her usual personal comms pickup.

"Admiral Bonnet, your line, Captain!" The main screen flashed into view of the bridge of the _Justicia._

He looked tense, certainly not ready for this. "Captain Zhen'var, what has taken place? You have brought your shields up and we see the energy signatures aboard both your vessel and the Aururian fleet, we are going to alert ourselves."

"The Alliance has _lost confidence_ in the League as a decolonization partner worthy of trust, Admiral Bonnet." Her voice was flat and cold. "You will withdraw your ships from orbit. _We_ will oversee the departure of the remaining League citizens."

"That is contrary to the agreement between the League and the Alliance, Captain, I…"

The Aururian fleet jumped in. The carrier positioned in the rear immediately began to launch her area CAP as the lead battlecruiser's gun turrets swung out to starboard to clear on Bonnet's flagship.

" _Captain,_ the Aururian fleet! Now is not the time for this!" Alarms were blaring on the bridge of the _Justicia_ behind him.

" _I_ called them in, Admiral. This is not a negotiation, it is an _ultimatum!"_ A snarl and hiss accompanied her words, eyes flaring with fury. "You _will_ withdraw, or _we will force you to do so_. The League's _solution_ to the drug trade would have resulted in the total structural failure and collapse of the hives! Claim ignorance if you wish, but agreements are made between _partners_. The League has forfeited that consideration."

"What kind of mad talk is this, Captain? How could the elimination of a _drug_ cause structural problems for the bugs' damned _cities?_ " he looked incredulous-and more than a little scared. Indeed, the fear that this might be the beginning of a war was real, and without the Alliance on their side, the prospects were not good. It was not the fear of a coward, but a sane man facing a grim fate.

"The retrovirus your scientists provided, to eliminate the enzyme responsible for the creation of drugs from _Tiral_? It does not effect the _plant_ , That enzyme is also responsible for controlling bacteria in the hive structure that would otherwise _rapidly_ rot and decay what the Numeraians create.. I am giving you the _opportunity_ to withdraw. I _suggest_ you take it."

"Third party comms request coming in from the _Resolution,_ " Elia said, temporarily muting the line.

"Feed it to my omnitool earpiece, Commander."

"We are prepared to issue an ultimatum to the League, if you like, Captain," Afyhova's voice sounded through the earpiece.

"Captain, you have no proof. You have only supposition. We had no intention to harm the Numeraians-the _Amazons_ are _using_ you, Captain!" Bonnet was almost shouting-at the end he _was_ shouting.

"My survey team, which _was_ attacked on the surface, confirmed via their sampling and laboratory results that this is the case, Admiral." Zhen'var's voice had lost _all_ emotional tone but that of frigid formality.

"My God Captain, we are _on the same side!_ Have you gone _mad_?" He looked beyond her, to the bridge crew of the _Huáscar_ within the feed.

" _Side_ , Admiral? I am an officer of the _Alliance_ , not the League! _Withdraw your ships_."

He stiffened, and glared at her. "We will defend the National Transitional Council, Captain, we have honour. They will be against the wall if you let the Aururians impose their precious reactionary regime! That is what this is really about, you know. That is what it is always about."

"I find it unlikely they will have much interest in standing with you after what has been done, Admiral."

Elia muted the channel. "I think we need an ultimatum at this point, Captain," she said softly, almost biting her lip.

"Admiral Afyhova, the time has come, I believe."

The channel synched into a three way. Afyhova looked to Bonnet for a moment. Their lines descended from the same world. But they had been irrevocably separated by a symbiot which existed only in this Earth, this timeline. The uniforms nonetheless shared a European influence, they both spoke western European languages, at least in command. Afyhova switched to French for this.

"Will you get to Antananarivo in time for Vespers, Admiral?" Afyhova asked, her voice filled with scorn. It was a deep historical allusion of two orders, the kind the Aururians, so conservative by the nature of the Australian peoples, had bestowed on their entire Empire.

"Perhaps you may believe that the Alliance and League are on the same 'side', as you have said, Admiral. Perhaps that is even true. It does not change that if you do not depart orbit within one hour, I am willing to use force to compel your compliance."

"France does not abandon her obligations, Captain," Bonnet answered. "The League is her daughter, we will not surrender the National Transitional Council to you."

"One hour," Afyhova repeated simply, refusing to be baited, and nodded through the line to Zhen'var before the image blinked off.

 _"Commander, you have the bridge. Undock the Heermann. The Deputy Undersecretary and I need to urgently relay the situation to our superiors… and summon our reinforcements."_

As the two women-Yulassana in the jumpseat-rose and the _Heermann_ deployed, they couldn't help but feel the terrible inevitability of war.

* * *

As it turned out, it was only twenty-two minutes until Elia commed the two of them, having made their reports up their respective chains of command and called for reinforcements.

"Captain, there is a transmission from the surface." Elia shot a significant look and put the proclamation on the ready room screen instead of her own face, with the autotranslation. "I am Queen Tisararam of Xiteram'mer," the youthful Numeraian queen, still an immense and ominous figure, began. "I have supported the National Transitional Council; however, the com-interception broadcast which was displayed around the planet shortly before has changed this matter, my children. Though it is certain that the comms eavesdropping capability was the result of the technology of the Aururian Empire, many of my sisters trust the Aururians. Furthermore, it is clear that they are sincere words of the League. Nobody would have trusted them, or the Council, if they had known of any kind of risk to the saliva which builds our cities. Nobody would have seriously believed that the silly inebriation of the humans from our hives would justify any Action of this kind. The humans have lied to us, children. Accordingly, the government they proposed ends now. I have seized the National Transitional Council. I will negotiate with my sisters to establish the government of independent Garatnam. Remain calm, and follow the instructions of the sub-Viziers. The hour of our independence remains at hand. The rootless aliens in orbit do not know how to untangle themselves from the risk of war to have free reign to threaten us again. The centuries of our oppression are at an end, and the subterfuge of our oppressor undone!"

Zhen'var was quietly shaking her head. "... Colonel Fei'nur has her orders. Almighty willing, she will be able to carry them out. This is… what I had feared would happen when Admiral Bonnet was stubborn." The two women looked at each other, and returned to the bridge.

"Captain, we are receiving a communication from the _Justicia,_ " CPO Bor'erj reported. The bridge remained as tense as a knife, nobody having gone off-post in those twenty-two minutes, every station crewed.

The Dilgar captain paused, before returning to her command chair. "I will take it, Comms."

Bonnet looked relieved. The truth was out now, and one could see the next steps written on his face. He was a man of honour, who had been left looking for a way out. A way to save face as a military man. And the _Aururians_ had given it to them. The supposed warmongering Empire had known that unless they flipped the Queens supporting the NTC, it would be a war. They had avoided it by working that angle in the background.

"Captain, in light of the failure of the National Transitional Council to retain control over the planet, and in the interests of interstellar peace, we are prepared to withdraw from Garatnam within the one hour you have given us."

"In the interest of continued peace, you have my thanks, Admiral Bonnet. I will stand my ship down from combat stations, and my ground forces will continue to protect your cantonments until all your citizens are withdrawn."

"The military did not know, Captain. You have my word of honour as an officer, the military did not know," he answered stiffly, repeating himself emphatically, shaken.

Zhen'var believed him. Growing up, serving as an officer in the Earth Alliance, she believed him. _But somebody did,_ she thought stiffly as the message blinked off. "Get me Admiral Afyhova, please."

The screen flashed promptly back to the bridge of the _Resolution._ "Captain," Afyhova acknowledged. "I am given to understand the League Admiral has agreed to withdraw."

"Correct, Admiral, within the hour he was given. You have my thanks for your cooperation in helping keep the peace." Left unsaid was how the Aururians _had_ outmanouvered them.

"It was not really me. The Lady Marshal acted according to the dictates and judgement of her position," Afyhova answered frankly. "I am just glad it did not have a recourse to arms."

"Your forebearance made it possible. Again, you have my thanks. My ground forces will shield the League civilians until they are evacuated, as per my orders. Garantam is free."

"I will make your job a little easier for you, then, Captain. I will withdraw as well," she answered, significantly, a flicker of expression of surprise from Captain Kerolit behind her.

There was a flash of relief across Zhen'var's face. With the Aururians withdrawn, their allies on the surface would be _much_ less likely to act against the Massif. " _Namaste_ , Admiral." She pressed her palms together and inclined her head.

Afyhova reciprocated the gesture. " _Namaste,"_ she replied, "Alinga be your sure friend, you travel the solar vastness fast and sure, Captain. You have done honour today."

Zhen'var nodded, and broke the connection, mentally mumbling to herself _I doubt Portland will see it that way._

See it one way, or see it another, when the sun set on the Massif that night, Garatnam was a free nation, the Numeraians a free people, and there was peace.

 ** _Tag_**

"Have you ever actually testified before a Military Oversight Committee meeting before, Captain?" Abebech asked, sitting at a table with Zhen'var and Fei'nur, collectively (and embarrassingly for Will as the XO) the highest ranking officers on the ship, as they settled into the vast dockyard around Portland in geosynchronous orbit which up until that point the _Huáscar_ had never actually visited before. It was their first trip to the capital of the Alliance.

"No, but I was with General Leftcourt as his aide when _he_ did in Geneva, Commander." Her hands desperately wanted to _do_ something, but she held them rigidly in her lap. "It will be unpleasant, I know."

"Project confidence and focus on the soundbytes, most of them will follow along with what you say if they think the media will like it," Abebech answered, sipping her coffee. She was as enormously composed as ever, having returned from her trip to Doreia looking a bit healthier and with the _Heermann_ having avoided action on the late mission. The scuttlebutt aboard the _Huáscar_ was that she had gone back to the Solarian League for some kind of medical treatment, but Nah'dur flat-out insisted she wouldn't need it.

"It remains to be seen. I am sure the Foreign Office wants my head." Her nerves were so shaken, Zhen'var didn't even have her usual chai before her, just water with a lemon slice.

"They haven't cancelled our next mission to negotiate with the Quarian Admiralty, Captain," Abebech reminded her gently. "It will be fine."

"I will remember your words _after_ the hearing, Commander Imra. Until then, my fears have reign of my mind."

"I have always admired your honesty most of all," Abebech said, abruptly. She rarely delved into such things. "Not simply telling the truth. But the honesty of self. You may let your fears reign over your mind, but someone like you doesn't have anything to be afraid of, really."

"What the Deputy Undersecretary told me on my yacht indicates otherwise, Commander." Zhen'var murmured, gaze flickering about. "But I shall try and remember your counsel.".

"You have as many powerful friends as enemies, Captain. Bear that in mind when you go."

"Thank you, Commander." It was a conversation Zhen'var kept in mind the next several days, including during the long several hours before the Military Oversight Committee's inquisition into her actions. She never flinched from taking full responsibility for the outcome and process of the action; on behalf of her crew, and even the Deputy Undersecretary. It had been _her_ actions which had led to the outcome; a Garantam that was in the orbit of the Aururian Empire, and a massive setback in relations with the League.

* * *

On Omega Station, under Aria t'Loak's thumb, interuniversal connections meant the scale and scope of crime had only unfathomably multiplied.

The group of Salarians, hyperactive and nervous, almost screamed ill-intent as they leaned in together with their contractor. Contractor was a good word for it, neutral, divorced.

"It is not enough to kill the Dilgar scion, no, no," the lead Salarian insisted. "We need the destruction of the plans confirmed as well. There are other Dilgar of that house, it is famous for its outlier intellectual potential. We need the plans."

"That increases the complexity of the operation massively."

"Cost is not a concern; cost supports the increase in complexity. The plans must be destroyed, the family is extremely capable at cross-functional intellectual performance. One of the others may finish the work even if the scion is eliminated."

"That ship is a very tough nut to crack, gentlemen…"

"Two hundred bars of gold pressed latinum," the first Salarian said simply.

"I'll see what I can do to put a team together."


	40. Episode 8 Act 1

**_Introduction_**

Commander Abebech Imra, the Captain of the _Huáscar_ 's parasite ship _Heermann,_ and Colonel Fei'nur, the Spectre and Marine Regiment Commander for the _Huáscar_ , arrived at the invitation-only function room attached to Café Varna last. The two had been sparring, and incredibly, Fei'nur looked like the one who had come off the worse, though the two of them walked side by side, with the easy confidence of people who had earned each other's respect.

Inside the room, William Atreiades the XO, Elia Saumarez the Operations Officer in her prominent telepath's black gloves, Arterus tr'Rllaillieu the Navigation officer and Rihannsu (or Romulan) Star Empire's heir's cousin, Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur, the Captain's younger sister and already legendary Dilgar Doctor and biologist (with a very ominous clan name), Chief Warrant Officer Anastasia Héen, the Tlingit Airboss, and Master Chief Petty Officer Rick Dugan had already settled. With them, very hesitantly, was a newcomer: Artesia de Más, a/k/a Artesia som Deikun or Sayla Mass, who had been invited to the ship by the Captain and now was worried about her professional future.

The other officers of the _Huáscar_ were there in spirit, if not in person. Anna Poniatowska, the ChEng, had the bridge watch. Lar'shan was completing a special evaluation Fei'nur had sent him on, as she was never content when it came to the risk of wasting time. With the _Huáscar_ in dock, Daria and Violeta had been dragged to mandatory training.

The rest of them were there. And they had good reason to be. Their Captain, Zhen'var, daughter of Kaveri Varma (and adopted by Shai'jhur, the Dilgar Warmaster) and f/k/a Zhengli Varma, was being grilled before the Senate Armed Services Committee. The Senate Service Holovision Channel was a rare voluntary choice for a private function, but it was on today, as Alexandra brought out plate after plate of Bulgarian cuisine and plenty of beers. No-one wanted to be completely sober for it.

"It's a disgrace." Fei'nur murmured, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough to be deniable, as she watched the holo-feed. "Previous witnesses' recesses delayed the start?"

"Of course they did," Stasia offered, rolling her eyes. "There's zero respect in the Senate. Grandstanding did more of it, actually. Welcome, Colonel," she added informally, but there was respect there too. Both the Chiefs got along well with Fei'nur-which for Rick in particular as a human from the same galaxy was quite an accomplishment.

Abebech, wearing a traditional Ethiopian dress and full-length white opera gloves and her customary shades, had yanked her amazingly curly and huge mass of hair back into a usual restricted bun, and looked up at the screen methodically. She waved off the beer and watched as a plate of Karvavitza was put down in front of her. Other than that, she had water and an empty glass into which she poured a dark and rich wine of her own. It was the first time anyone at the table had seen her drink.

Fei'nur picked up her usual, of the specialty meat plank of Cafe Varna and grozdovallozova. She gave the screen a glare as she settled in.

Nah'dur would have looked dejected if only Dilgar ears could flop. To another Dilgar the gesture was clear, anyway, her nose hovering over her drink. Her eyes were distracted to Abebech's drink. "What are you drinking?"

"A kind of Solarian wine I picked up a few cases of whilst I was on shore leave before the mission to Garatnam," Abebech replied simply. "It's all genetically engineered. I doubt you'd like it."

"It's beginning." Fei'nur muttered as the chryon flashed across the screen indicating the hearings were about to resume. Zhen'var's image flashed across the screen, rigid as she held up her hand, swearing an oath before questioning began.

All together, the table quieted of its own volition. They would have all been there, but it would look bad, and Zhen'var would have never permitted it. And so they had to settle for the holovid projector in Café Varna.

There was the strike of a gavel. "Our meeting will come to order. Today we are considering the matter of the world of Garantam, and the recent operations concluded there by the Alliance Navy and Diplomatic corps."

"Princess Marigold," Abebech's eyes narrowed for a moment and she shook her head and laughed. "Well, that will be entertaining. Avalon is one of the Psychocomp civilisations nearer to the Fracture." It was an opening moment that made Abebech the centre of attention for the moment. She raised her glass to her lips, looking like Malbec.

"They're the civilisations which reverted to historical memetic forms as a coping mechanism with the Fracture during the Reignfall," Abebech explained as Elia and Artesia were almost transfixed with her steady drip of information. "She's actually quite likely to be friendly to the Captain, I expect."

"They will not all be, or there would not be hearings." Fei'nur countered, swirling the liquid in her glass. "Someone had to request them and summon her."

They watched as, with enormous dignity, Zhen'var fenced the Senators away from 'gotchas' and prevented anyone from saying she had exceeded the bounds of her duties as a Captain. They watched as she foiled with them, speaking plainly to the fact that Garatnam was an independent country now, and without violence. She graciously acknowledged the contribution of the Deputy Undersecretary for Peace Outreach Yulasanna, and refrained from calling out the errors of intelligence which had nearly led to disaster.

"They don't deserve her," Stasia muttered as she watched the holo-feed.

"Of course they don't," Nah'dur added, and one could almost hear her add 'because she's part of my family', but she managed not to, despite her already infamous lack of a filter.

"It will take months before they come up with a report, anyhow." Fei'nur offered from her place, setting an empty glass on the table. "And they can only make recommendations to our Admirals. Such a silly, redundant system."

"It does prevent mistakes, as a balance of powers often does," Abebech observed, smiling wryly to Fei'nur. "At least in theory, at any rate."

"A _terrible_ theory. Did not the Lady Sta'ria state in her _Great Commentaries_ that division of the supreme power was necessary to prevent stagnation, but that a collegial form was required to prevent anarchy?"

"Of course she did!" Nah'dur bounded. "That's why, in fact, we just have elected collegiate positions instead of an actual legislature in the Union."

Abebech smiled. "Separation of powers based on function rather than talent does run the risk of of a government being based on form rather than competence, Sta'ria was right about that."

"I dare say she was right about more than that." There was a tone of challenge in Fei'nur's voice as she indicated the holodisplay.

"How …" Even Abebech trailed off and shrugged. "Well, you're likely right, in certain respects. The Captain is making them look bored, though, she's not giving them a single opening in her duties or her privileges," she offered to the Dilgar Colonel.

"The Battlemaster is the epitome of _professional,_ like Warmaster Dar'sen was."

Elia nodded slowly. "It's strange to think of her up there. I have enormous sympathy for it. When Deputy Directors got grilled by the Earth Alliance Senate back home, you know, they couldn't say a single thing wrong. She must feel much the same."

" _Huáscar_ and our people, she represents both when she sits before the records and Senators." Fei'nur spoke, slow and careful in her words. "If she demanded less than perfection from herself, she would not be the Captain she is."

"Will it really take months for them to clear her?" Nah'dur asked with a frown.

"Yes," Elia answered, "but it isn't clearing per-say. It's just a fact finding report. It can't be used for discipline or anything else in the military… Officially, anyway."

The Marine officer growled softly under her breath. "A negative report can and will be used to _generate_ official proceedings, however."

"They don't got shit on her," Rick sighed and rolled his eyes. "They just wanted her to screw up on camera, and she didn't. It'll be fine."

"If politics do not intervene. Still… you are correct, Chief. We have another long duration mission to prepare for, and _our_ Captain will be leading us." Fei'nur's expression admitted no uncertainty.

"Are we sure it's going to be all right?" Artesia asked. "They really seem to have it out for her?"

"No-one with the power to force Admiral Maran to act, however, but such is a discussion dangerously close to breaking regulations, Lieutenant."

Artesia sighed and nodded.

"Hard for someone from the White Base?" Elia asked with a gentle smile on her lips.

"Yeah… About that. Yeah." Artesia's face flicked back into a smile. "Thank you, Colonel, Commander. She's a good woman and we owe her everything."

* * *

About an hour later, an exhausted Zhen'var was heading to Admiral Maran's office. She went through security, waited for ten minutes in a mild daze in the waiting room by the secretary, and then was invited into his office. There was a hot cup of chai waiting on the table.

"Captain, please have a seat."

"Thank you, Sir." Gratefully, with her head still somewhat fuzzy from the last several hours, the Dilgar Captain sank into the chair. The act of will to not stare longingly at the cup was, she would later marvel, nearly a miracle.

"By all means," he gestured to the cup. "You comported yourself well," he added. "I do not think it will be a problem. The actual objective of the mission was met. Some in the Senate simply expected there would be additional implicit advantages."

"I have concerns of that, sir, but you are correct." She took the ceramic in both hands and took a thankful sip. Zhen'var had more to say, but what she had said was already pushing the bounds of military propriety she had drilled into her as a young woman.

Maran sized her up for a moment, thinking. Her disinterest in continuing was clear, and really, so was his. "We have a new mission for the _Huáscar,_ Captain, and it is an important one, you have established your reputation already as one of the foremost of our Explorer Captains, and I do wish I could offer you more than that praise, but it is deserved. This one will still be a challenge. I need you to lead negotiations between the Alliance and the Quarian people."

"The Quarian flotilla, sir?" Her brows visibly knitted. " _Huascar_ is not known for our diplomatic record, Admiral, but more a most aggressive peacekeeping posture."

"I think you will be a particularly respected Captain among the Quarians, and the Naval Board and the Foreign Ministry agree. This is a situation in which diplomacy led by an Explorer Captain is actually highly advantageous, due to the cultural respect for Captains which the Quarians hold. So that is the decision which has been made for the assignment," Maran explained.

 _And of course, not my Science officer…_ "I believe I understand, Admiral."

"You will depart in two days, Captain. The Migrant Fleet is in the terminus systems… And the objective of the negotiations is to establish the terms on which they will become an Associated State and move into another universe to find a suitable planet for habitation."

"Admiral, we are speaking of the _Migrant Fleet_. We will need an Interuniversal Gate, and fifty thousand ships…" She shook her head in disbelief at the _scale_. "Two gates, then. A realspace transit… what universe is being considered, and what support shall we have to keep the fleet moving onwards? Away from their technological base here… they will be reliant on us to be their support once their own resources are depleted in an… exodus of the type you describe."

"We will need to organise two hundred full sized fleet tenders to support the movement," Maran agreed. "In regular, continuous convoys, for several months. They will leave through one of the established gates, but we will have to build one on the other end. We haven't identified a world yet, Captain. This will be months in the planning, and _Huáscar_ will be assigned to identify that world-the needs of Quarians are unique, and it will be an enormous challenge to find a suitable biome. It's conceivable this mission could occupy the _Huáscar,_ with a few breaks for shore-leave and maintenance, for an entire year."

She had not expected the mission to take so long as that; Zhen'var had thought they had _possible_ worlds already, and a hint of a frown crossed her face. "Is the intention to have the Migrant Fleet depart M4P2, sir, and take them to another that we will scout, or for _Huascar_ to scout with Quarian support?"

"For _Huascar_ to scout with Quarian support, locate and confirm suitability of a world, and then return to lead the Quarian fleet through it, Captain. You may be drawn off to other missions but that will be your primary objective for the foreseeable future."

Captain Zhen'var felt a weight settle on her shoulders as she gave a single nod. "I understand, Admiral. _Huáscar_ will not fail." _Just the future of an entire species resting on us, that is all._

* * *

 **Undiscovered Frontier _Origins_ : Death Count**

 **Season 1, Episode 8**

 **Act One**

* * *

They had managed to cut orders for 36 hours of leave for the officers after the crew had gotten 60 hr passes on Earth. This meant a fair number of them had only recently returned from their leave as they began to filter into the familiar Conference Room One. It looked like Anna was glaring at the Projector, daring it to cause problems after the work done it.

Nah'dur wandered in with a bright look on her face, early enough before the meeting that she felt comfortable talking to Zhen'var semi-informally… And Fei'nur close at hand. "Captain, I am sorry you were not able to go to the surface. Do you know what I discovered?"

"No, Surgeon-Commander, but I suspect you are keen to tell me." Zhen'var couldn't help a small smile at her little sister's enthusiasm.

"I discovered," Nah'dur continued, "that there is a subnational territorial unit on the North American continent which is named Wisconsin, and it is famous for Cheese. I toured five factories at which cheese is made," she continued, and presented triumphantly a bag of small pieces of cheese to Zhen'var. "They even sell the immature cheese as a delicacy, sort of like eating the calves of rightbeasts. Have some, sister. You too, Fei'nur!"

"You came back with… Wisconson cheese curds." Zhen'var blinked. "Captain Sheridan would talk of such things from fairs when he was a child, and frying them in breading, I recall…" She reached in and took a piece, only for her eyes to widen in surprise when it squeaked as she bit down.

Fei'nur's expression was wary as she nibbled a piece off, though it faded as she chewed. "Commander, this _is_ certainly an acquired taste, but I could see myself acquiring it. It is digestible enough, I assume?"

"Oh, of course, perfectly so," Nah'dur answered. "I got to inspect every part of the production process after all. Isn't the squeak so neat?"

"Almost like the experience cuisine from the old Empire, where certain of the food was presented live. They are rather a pleasant experience." Fei'nur reached for another curd, as Zhen'var looked to her for a moment, before following suit.

"Yes exactly my thought," Nah'dur grinned. "I cannot understand why everyone dislikes the Armed Forces Network. Without the public service announcements on it, I would have never known that Wisconsin existed."

Both the older women immediately turned withering looks on Nah'dur's innocent grin. "It is good that _someone_ appreciates it." Fei'nur managed to growl… while sneaking another cheese curd.

It was then that Fera'xero arrived.

"Commander, good morning. Sit, please." Zhen'var quickly resettled her 'professional' look on her face. "We will have much to discuss, and you shall be rather intimately involved in the planning of our next mission."

"Captain?" Fera'xero asked, collecting a drink bulb, as he moved to sit.

Zhen'var waited until he did, before she went on, not smiling; "We are going to make contact with the Migrant Fleet. I am to lead negotiations on the terms of them Associating with the Alliance, and the mechanism by which we shall find your people a new homeworld in another universe."

"The homeworld decision," Fera'xero's vocoder flashed. "I understand why you ask me to come, yes. There has been much debate in the Fleet. I have participated in it from afar where I can, Captain." He composed himself, sucking from the bulb. "Where shall I begin, my Captain?"

"I understand the basic history, of the Morning War and what comes after, and the biological limitations on a world that can be found. It is expected our mission may take a year or more, with a Quarian squadron traveling with us. There is the Admiralty Board and the Conclave, and both must be won over, yes?"

"A year might be a reasonable estimate," Fera'xero said, glancing to Nah'dur.

"Statistically speaking," Nah'dur explained, "competitive evolution of bacteria and virii and fungii is collectively _so common_ that there is a small, but concerning, possibility that we will fail: We may find that, in fact, even in the entire possibly infinite multiverse that Rannoch was the _only_ planet with a sophisticated ecosystem to take the evolutionary direction that it did and evolve a collaborative system of evolution," Nah'dur finished with a blunt shrug. "Now, is that likely? No, I think we can find a planet they can live on. But the statistical probability of Rannoch is low enough that it could be the only one."

"We will need to use non-standard intelligence sources to give us hints at where we should be directing our search, if the situation is so rare… or we will need to engineer a world." There was a hint of a wince.

"It's really a big data problem," Nah'dur scrunched up, her nose cutely flaring for a moment. "We have some evidence of panspermic exchanges of bacteria, the Perseus Veil probably helped prevent that for Rannoch. So the first way to narrow down the search will be to look for areas where astrographic conditions make it hard for rogue asteroids and comets and bits of planetary matter to be exchanged on an interstellar basis. Since those areas will usually be the same from universe to universe, it's a managable problem, don't you agree, Commander?"

"Very clever, Surgeon-Commander. Yes, it should be something we can approach," Fera'xero answered.

"Beyond that, we just do massive correlation of all observed data from ships, reports of traders, studies, etc, in all of the societies whose data we have access to," Nah'dur explained. "Once we have those two sources narrowed down, then it actually makes sense to begin searching in those areas first-correlating with systems that have Rannoch-like stellar conditions first using a genetic search algorithm and then spreading out to less likely hits."

Raising her hands, palm out, Zhen'var spoke; "I leave it in your capable hands, Commanders. An abstract of the method is requested for when I must open negotiations with the Migrant Fleet, so I may present a _plan_."

"Understood," Nah'dur answered immediately. "What next, then?"

"I can explain the political situation in the Fleet," Fera'xero offered

"Please do. I have the general Alliance brief, which goes about as deeply as a tourist pamphlet."

Fera'xero nodded, putting the bulb aside. "There are three factions. The outer settlement faction wants to find another settlement. Admirals Shala'Raan vas Tonbay and Zaal'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib represent this faction. Han'Gerrel vas Neema and Rael'Zorah vas Qurron have been known to favour turning back to achieve victory at any cost over the geth. Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh… Is a complicated matter. I will be honest, she has reason to be wary of non-Quarians, and has been very cautious in stating a preference. The Conclave is… Closely divided in the same way. I think you will have to win over Daro'Xen vas Moreh to any plan of settlement."

"I admit, all I have on an intelligence folio is an indication that the Surgeon-Commander might be the best suited for the effort. She is a head of research, is she not?" Zhen'var checked her omnitool.

"She is," Fera'xero concurred. "The essential problem is that many in the fleet do not want to abandon the dream of Rannoch, Captain. It is our Walled Garden. That _means something,_ even as you Dilgar have, it turns out, taken out a very considerable mortgage to restore Omelos"

"Settling Rohric and Tira did not end our dream of Omelos, Commander. Finding another world, that the Quarian people are not reliant on an aging fleet… does not end the dream of Rannoch. I can see how it will be a difficult effort to prove the point, however."

"It would be so very hard for us to adapt to another world, Captain. If Rannoch was ever regained in the future, it might be very hard to regain it in those circumstances, we have always been a suited people when traveling elsewhere, and you can read the accounts of the Asari who had Quarian partners in those days if you like. They're a memory of a vanished world. We were already having problems, trapped in suits on the surface of our own planet, because of the biological disaster of first contact."

"I admit… I… am not sure what we could do. The Surgeon-Commander has been studying it, I know, but…" Zhen'var found it _quite_ the knotty sort of problem.

"I think we should take the opportunity offered to us no matter what, Captain. But that is why there will be resistance, those are the terms they will frame it in. I am very appreciative of Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur's efforts, of course, but announcing them, despite the formidable reputation she is already accruing, would not be wise at this juncture."

"Agreed, Commander. Your home universe has its' own hidden currents and dangers, as any other."

"Then the main thing is to give the Quarians confidence we can prepare a world for them," Nah'dur noted.

* * *

After the meeting, Nah'dur headed back to her CMO's office and activated the privacy routines she had hacked into the local computer system quite seamlessly. There was no need for _anyone_ to know about this, as she reached out to Wrex once more, now that she had confirmation.

"Nah'dur." His holographic image ghosted into view, the Krogan clan leader's gruff tone coming through the encryption clearly enough.

"I have good news. In another two days we will be making a rendezvous with the Migrant Fleet for negotiations. It's the perfect time for you to bring me the samples I need for the trials, Battlemaster," she grinned.

"So it is. Send the coordinates, I'll be there. Watch yourself, Nah'dur."

"Yes, I know it's a dangerous and exposed position. I won't be leaving the ship at all; we can do a rendezvous at the edge of the fleet, and we have a number of small craft for that. So many traders come to and from the Migrant Fleet, and it has so many different kinds of ships, that will be easy to be lost inside of it."

"That dangerous woman you hang around with? Keep doing that. It's easy for people coming after you to get lost in it too."

"You've heard of Commander Imra? You've been doing research on us, I see. She is exquisitely dangerous."

"You don't get to live as long as I have by being stupid, kid."

"Oh, well, of course." Nah'dur smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I would try to have her handle the transfer."

"Good." The Krogan's eyes seemed to bore into her. "We'll talk later."

"We'll be monitoring Channel 24 Gamma for when they arrive," Nah'dur answered confidently. "We'll talk later."

* * *

Elia Saumarez was browsing through her e-mails, deleting three for every one she read, with the long practice of someone used to having a government account. She had gone off-shift from her bridge watch thirty minutes before and didn't really feel like sleeping.

It was then her hand hovered over one that looked like spam. _Alliance All-Service Continuing Education University._ With a grimace at the name, she paused, and then opened it.

And then she double-checked the origin, the signature and the digital verification. _Yep, that's real. You're going to command school, sister,_ she thought to herself with an almost weightless feeling. Her electronic learning course Zhen'var had gotten for her had paid off. She was going to command school.

She was also going to have to be off of the _Huáscar_ for three months. Already, Elia had come so close to the rest of the ship's crew that it hurt to think about it. But this was also the future, and exactly what her friend wanted for her. She grinned, a bit nervously, and shifted a gloved finger to select the comm line for Zhen'var.

"Good evening, Elia." After two chimes, she had an answer. Zhen'var was at her desk by the image, as she pushed some datapads away from the audio pickup. "What is it? You are smiling, so that is a good sign."

"I have been accepted to Command School, Captain," Elia answered. " _Zhen'var,_ you did it for me! Thank you!"

"That is _wonderful!_ " A smile blossomed across the Dilgar woman's face, teeth flashing. "Ahead of the curve, too!"

"...Thank you," Elia glanced widely with her eyes, making a cute little expression of happiness. But then her face fell a bit. "However, the orders are abrupt. Apparently there was a slot for me in the next class, so they want me to depart in forty-eight hours and report in ninety-six."

"So be it. I shall miss you… let me draw up orders to prepare a shuttle for your use, you are qualified, I recall?" Zhen'var reached for her terminal.

"I am, Captain," Elia answered, and drew herself up. "You shall find me returning a better woman than I left, I promise; I won't leave this opportunity to pass me by."

"That reaction is one of many reasons I put you forward for this chance, Commander. Go with my blessing."

"Zhen'var, you will always be my friend." She reached for a kerchief, trying to hide the tears forming in her eyes.

"Thank you, Elia. You have time to pack and brief the hand-off, I shall leave you to it. Let me know when you are departing, and I will see you off myself, my friend."

* * *

The rendezvous had required the _Huáscar_ to arrive before the Quarian fleet in a remote system in Terminus. Sitting at MC Yoke and normal cruising stations, the _Huáscar_ had settled into wait. The abrupt departure of Commander Saumarez for training and the anticipation at the arrival of the Quarians were the main chatter aboard in the meantime.

Ten minutes before the arrival of the Quarian fleet was scheduled, Zhen'var came on the bridge. Daria had been temporarily promoted to one of the Officers of the Watch, and had the conn. Lieutenant Orallian was leading Ops, and Daria had bumped up her own officers into the Watch for Tactical.

"Commander. Keep the conn, I wanted to be up here to see the Migrant Fleet arrive." Zhen'var offered, after her arrival was acknowledged.

A moment later, Abebech arrived on the bridge, as well, stepping quietly to the side. "Captain, it is going to be quite the sight," she observed mildly.

"Of course, that is why I came up here. The same for you, Commander? The grandest my galaxy has ever known was the Combined Fleet at First Balos. This is… more."

"Of course it is. There are legends of greater fleets, but…"

"But they are legends. The Migrant Fleet is _very_ real."

Abebech looked distant for a moment. "Perhaps they are. Having seen what we recently saw, I am not so sure," she answered. "But this is here, in the present, sure, real. Yes, I very much want to see it."

"Perhaps we should have gone to one of the celestial domes." Zhen'var murmured, watching the mission clock scroll onwards.

"Here's their expected time."

"Ah, it's appropriate to be on the bridge, enough, Captain," Abebech answered… And the first flash rippled. Ten ships. Frigates.

"109th Forward Picket Group requests we identify ourselves," Bor'erj reported from comms.

"Send confirmation of our identity," Daria ordered, "And hold position."

"They confirm, Ma'am." Just as Bor'erj finished speaking, his eyes widened.

With a ripple, ships started to arrive. Ten like before, and then another ten, and another, and another, and another… And these were all frigates.

"To think, these are just the scouts… do salute each ship that offers us one, please." Zhen'var gently offered.

"Render honours when given," Daria instructed, leaning forward with her ears flexing.

"One thousand ships," Orallian reported. "All frigates."

"Here it comes…" Abebech murmured. Just as she did, the cruisers started, wave after wave… And as they formed a circle behind the scouts, the three utterly massive LiveShips appeared in the middle of the cruisers, and then suddenly in a surge around them, all the uncounted ships of a dozen races began to surge forward in a continuous rippling flash of arrival that seemed to just go on and on.

Even the Captain could not completely hide her awe, as ship after ship, squadron after squadron, came pouring into the system.

Abebech breathed slow and steady, and watched sharply on the screen. "That is the entire Quarian species, seventeen million of them, and yet their fleet … Is rivalled by few in space."

"Unfortunately, it is a most fragile fleet, I fear… but that is why we are here." _And I am to negotiate with them. Divine, but this is not a_ ** _small_** _challenge._

"If little Quarian children don't have to grow up in bubbles, we may account ourselves of having done something _really grand,_ " Abebech smiled. "It was marvelous. I won't forget it," she added, as the fleet finished arriving.

"Agreed. I thank you for your presence, Commander." Zhen'var had a small smile on her face as she turned. "Carry on, Commander Seldayiv."

* * *

Artesia was in Café Varna eating cuts of lukanka alongside of a bowl of Pacha and a big slice of black bread, looking out the windows at the immense glittering vastness of artificial stars which represented the points of light that were the Quarian Migrant Fleet. She was continuing to try and experiment with all the different foods that Alexandra could make out of a mix of curiosity and a vague sense of guilt that most people just came in and ordered shashka and meat plates.

"Lieutenant." The voice that seemed to float into her ear came in a low rumble, from a figure holding a plate of meshana skara.

Artesia looked up, and offered a smile. "Colonel Fei'nur, a pleasure to see you here," she gestured with a hand to the table. "Have a seat if you like?"

"Thank you. I would." Slipping in, the tray slid onto the table with barely a sound as Fei'nur moved into the opposite chair. "You have been exploring the menu, I see. Familiar to dishes from your youth?"

"None, actually; the dishes I mostly remember are Spanish, and Catalan, ones," she answered with a smile. "You would doubtless like Spanish pork dishes, Colonel. I just want to try something new, and explore. My childhood was war, longing, and flight. It feels very odd to be comfortably seated at a table, even on a warship, getting to try all these dishes I never have before. I think I'd like to try Dilgar cuisine next, actually."

"That will be… harder than most, Lieutenant de Mas." There was something in the Colonel's eyes as she said it. "Not as hard as Quarian, I will grant you."

"Well, at least I will make you _Tostón asado_ , Colonel, if you like. I will just need to find suckling pigs…" Artesia offered a grin.

"A pity, we could have gotten them on Drachenfeldt." Fei'nur returned the grin. "We will surely find them on some planet."

"I think we certainly will," she nodded.

"In a more serious vein, I will speak to you about my business once our meals are completed?" The older Dilgar woman proposed, as her fork went back to taking a morsel of meat from her plate.

"Certainly so, I agree," Artesia nodded, working to tuck in to her food, every so often glancing up to be reassured and amazed by the glittering stars of the Migrant Fleet.

"As the Sides you knew, but even grander for being mobile…?" Fei'nur asked, with a slight lilt to her voice.

"Probably about the same mass of steel in the fleet as in the sides. The _LiveShips,_ now those are impressive," Artesia nodded.

"To think, once they were dreadnoughts, I recall. Our greatest fleet… was ten thousand ships, and it _staggered_ the galaxy to see and hear of such a feat, this…"

"Nobody should underestimate them," Artesia said flatly, hands going up as she finished her food, to gesture. " _Nobody._ They kept this fleet going, _added ships,_ for centuries of wandering. I like 'em. They're resourceful." And there was a bemused glint in her eye. "And spacenoids."

Fei'nur's grin showed teeth. "That leaves us with the idea for business. A bit of our plates left, still." She sounded quite amused herself.

"You're taking your time with explaining it, Colonel?" Artesia asked, bemused, and now a little curious, too.

"If I am going to be blunt, I have _concerns_ , Lieutenant, and with Commander Saumarez absent, I am intending to propose that you take her usual place on the Captain's diplomatic entourage."

Artesia blinked. "You know I'm not nearly as skilled at reading people as she is, Battlemaster? Is this because I am an officer and - capable of being polite? I admit, Newtypes have a certain … Battlefield sense."

"And, as you said, Lieutenant; spacenoids. It is not optimal, but I do not believe you will be a fighter pilot your entire career."

"You're absolutely right," Artesia answered, and grinned. "We'll get Mobile Armours and I'll switch straightaway."

"Mmm." Fei'nur made a noncommittal noise without returning the grin. "Perhaps."

"I'm looking forward to seeing what one with this technology can do. Yes, Colonel, I'll be there."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Is there anything you will need? I have not interacted with Quarians before, other than Commander Fera'xero, though I do admit some sympathy."

"Absolutely not, Colonel. I will be ready. Like you-I think they deserve it."


	41. Episode 8 Act 2

**Act Two**

The pilots generally didn't come down to jarhead territory. Of course, nobody would dare call Fei'nur a jarhead anyway, and maybe that had something to do with it, since the reputation of most pilots was that they couldn't control themselves when it came to humour at the expense of the rest of the military.

 _Lar'shan,_ on the other hand, broke all the stereotypes. And he certainly had plenty of reason to have a conversation with Fei'nur, especially since he had returned to the ship since his short leave, which had been taken somewhere. A very interesting somewhere.

Fei'nur's personal space on the Marine decks lacked the stereotypical battle trophies, decorations, holos, flags, and all the rest which seemed to slowly take over the offices of a senior officer. Simple and spartan, like the woman who ruled the ground-pounders of _Huáscar_ with an iron fist, and who stood to greet him. "Welcome back, Lar'shan."

"Thank you. It was a busy few days to get the wing in order once I returned. I apologise for not making the meeting sooner."

"Nonsense, official duties almost always come first. Our lords and masters rather prefer it. _Ytar?_ I hope the journey was productive, I know that it was not a _simple_ task I asked of you."

"Thank you, I would like the _Ytar._ " He paused, and then nodded. "It was a strange and unfortunate experience to see the ruins of a culture. The Kilrathi have taken the loss of their Empire truly hard. But they are alive, and in numbers which would make most of us envious, I think."

"Agreed. They will _eventually_ recover, but what form that takes is uncertain. Their spirits were shattered. We were broken, but not our spirit was not routed as theirs was."

"I agree. There were _elements_ which behaved and thought righteously inside of Kilrathi culture, but whether or not those win out is a matter of uncertainty at the moment," Lar'shan answered. "So, they let me test-fly almost all of their fighters. Some of them are quite impressive."

"Impressive enough to expand the contacts we have made thus far, Battle Expert?" His Dilgar rank emphasized the _unofficial_ nature of those contacts.

"Yes. I am not sure that the lady's clan actually has access to an old Bloodfang, but they may know where one crashed and could be retrieved, perhaps by Arterus' cousin," Lar'shan answered, "so it wasn't actually all smoke and mirrors. They seemed receptive to diplomatic contacts as well, and I'd like to encourage… Some of the more positive elements," he said after a moment's hesitation. "In particular, the technology in the Sorthak is of interest though the lack of manoeuvrability and inadequacies in the design of the aft turret mean it would need modification to be a truly superlative heavy fighter. The Dralthi is superior to the Thorun in its current mark, but not to the Mongoose. The Paktahn Bomber, on the other hand, is superior to anything we have, period; its throw-weight in torpedoes and missiles and handling while carrying it is superlative."

"I shall inform the Warmaster of the useful nature of those craft, that we can do our best to study them, and of the lead on acquiring a crashed example. Thank you, Lar'shan. You certainly can keep up your contacts. I will do the same, and recommend to the Warmaster we expand our outreach."

"You are most welcome, Battlemaster," he smiled. "I think if we can build a strong alliance of races around us who account us friends, we shall in time be stronger than ever before. It is a worthwhile endeavour. Flying against me, I think the Kilrathi already learned to respect Dilgar."

"Most pilots with any sense learn respect quickly, when they fly against a Shan." Fei'nur answered with honest amusement on her face. "For what is worth, I agree. Even if Nah'dur's effort of outreach seemed silly on first glance, I have since changed my outlook. You stand dismissed, Battle Expert."

"Battlemaster." Lar'shan came to attention and saluted, but there was a little grin in his eye.

* * *

The first hours after the _Huáscar_ 's arrival at the meeting-point and the jump-in of the Migrant Fleet had just been an exchange of protocol notes and beam-through protocols and a medical review by Nah'dur of the ship's environmental systems, while Chief Sherrod was making sure that the Food Management Team had everything ready for the unique dietary requirements of the Quarians.

Finally, all of the Dilgar personnel, because the ship was to be "dressed" for diplomatic guests, were already in dress uniform, and of course that meant everyone else on the _Huáscar_ had to follow suit.

Zhen'var was grateful for the excuse to make her ship look at least a _little_ smarter, walking the decks for quick spot inspections of the critical parts of the preparations. One could be very proud, at this point, that the _Huáscar_ truly turned out grandly. The Captain was, if she was honest with herself, killing time before the Quarians agreed to send their first delegates to her ship, but it gave her a warm feeling of gratification to see everything coming together.

After a few more hours, Abebech, 'floating' since the crew was a bit overtaxed with Elia gone, commed her. "Captain, the Quarians are satisfied with the reports from the Surgeon-Commander and the Admiralty Board is ready to arrive by shuttle. They won't transport because there is some concern, despite Commander Fera'xero's assurances, about quantum scale suit fissures from the transporter process. They are rather paranoid about that."

"Very well. Prepare the side party for the main shuttlebay, please. I will be there to greet them. The best impression we can present, of course"

"Of course, Captain. I will see you there," Abebech answered mildly.

"Thank you, Commander." A warmth suffused Zhen'var's voice as she let the comms connection close, and she turned her path through the corridors that led aft.

* * *

Marines, Security, sideparty, Abebech and Fei'nur. The assemblage growing in the bay when Zhen'var arrived was in dress uniforms, with pulse rifles for Marines and Security, and the bay glimmering. Stasia had provided plenty of room for the Quarian shuttles, and the fighters and shuttles looked splendid.

A single nod to each officer was the Captain's response, but her gaze shone with pride as she looked about, taking her place at the head of the welcoming party, gloved hands folding behind her reflexively.

Each Admiral arrived on a separate shuttle.

A single glance up in the direction of the landing director was the only hint of nervousness Zhen'var expressed as she picked out the moving stars that resolved into shuttles. Each from their own ship, each shuttle had its' own story, she was sure, by how many ships were no longer _completely_ Quarian in their parts heritage.

And each one in turn was guided smartly into the bay without a problem by Stasia and her team, and spotted in order. The Quarians didn't leave their shuttles until the bay doors sealed behind the last.

The opening of the hatches saw the Dilgar captain straighten her back, heels clicking together as she stiffened to stand at attention for the arrival of a _board_ of Admirals. This was diplomacy of a type that was still foreign to her, but there was no choice other than to do her utmost and carry it out.

Five Quarian Admirals, three men, two women. Han'Gerrel, Zaal'Koris, Rael'Zorah, Daro'Xen, Shala'Raan. With their staffs in support of them, there were more than thirty Quarians coming on board the _Huáscar,_ plus the shuttle crews, and the band played, the pipes whistled, and the companies came to attention.

Rael'Zorah exchanged a glance with Han'Gerrel, and the line presented and identified themselves as the music finished. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" he asked formally, for even the Quarian Admiralty Board needed permission, and respected Captains. Zhen'var was the Captain of her ship, and they had done some reading of their own.

"Permission is so granted, Admirals." The Quarian music faded away as Zhen'var met the diffuse glowing eyes of a Quarian behind their faceplate. "Welcome aboard _Huáscar._ The hospitality of the ship is yours while you choose to remain aboard her."

"We will stay until the conclusion of diplomacy," Zaal'Koris answered. "Thank you, Captain."

"We shall see if the reputation of Alliance diplomacy holds true." came from Daro'Xen, as Admiral Shala'Raan finished the round of speeches with a gentle "I expect that the Captain's reputation will, at least."

With a nod to the assembly, Abebech flawlessly handled the delicate process of forming honour-guards while dismissing the review, and falling in at Zhen'var's side for them to go to the negotiation suite.

 _I hope I am doing well so far, Commander. You certainly are, to my view!_ She 'thought' rather hard in Commander Imra's direction, as she led the way to where their negotiations would begin.

 _It's fine, Captain, and you're fine,_ Abebech answered her explicitly.

The suite had neatly separated sets of dextro- and levo- food, there was an auditorium for declarations and speeches, a conference table room, a central projector room. Chief Sherrod even had different sets of liveried crew from the Food Management Team so that the orderlies could be told apart based on what they were serving, though it wasn't that big of a deal since all of the Quarian food was in prepackaged bulbs and vacuum pouches and the other food… wasn't.

At least she knew that the dextro food had been prepared to the highest standards; the levi food certainly looked wonderful… but this was a serious negotiation, not a social function. "With your understanding, Admirals, there will be a series of experts brought in during these negotiations to cover various points in the Alliance position, with reciprocal permission being, of course, extended."

"We will find it more convenient to synchronise our omnitools and suit links with them, and we expect that will be permitted," Rael'Zorah answered smoothly. He seemed composed and calm about it all, the sort of person who was always looking for an advantage.

"Of course, Admiral." Zhen'var answered. "There will be monitoring for unusual communications, but no decryption of communication being sent on Quarian channels."

"That is agreeable."

* * *

They would go to the auditorium first. There, after introductions, Zhen'var would have to give a speech essentially speaking to the vision of peace and good relations, confirming the intention to assist the Quarians in finding a new homeworld. These events just required speeches.

" _Keelah si'yah._ " Zhen'var began, with her head bowed, as she invoked the Quarian benediction. "It is with the intention to bring this hope into being that we are gathered here today, and to this cause that the Alliance has tasked my ship and crew, though a hard journey to the farthest stars. It is to this hope that we _pledge_ ourselves, we people of the Union who serve aboard _Huáscar,_ who have known the wrenching agony of being cast out of our own _Edinnu_ , and whose desperate efforts and toil were in the end given reward."

Her back spasming with nervousness, Zhen'var swallowed past a dry throat as she went on. "It is my hope to see the Quarian people to be given a place where their natural talent will be recognized, where malice and prejudice have no place and no home. The approach of the Flotilla should _not_ be a cause for concern, and the Alliance reaches out its' hand to the Quarian people, in immediate assistance freely given, and in hope for a stable, permanent future."

"She hit the right notes," Abebech whispered to Will as the two politely applauded along with many of the others. "That was exceptionally hard for her, though."

"I don't know how they select starship captains to also be diplomats," Will admitted with a grimace. "I'd never do that well."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Abebech answered. "Let's see where this takes us."

Zhen'var stepped away from the lectern with a smile that somehow looked genuine, despite how her emotions roiled as she moved to sit at her place on the table. Now she had to lay out the Alliance proposals for how to turn pretty words into _reality._

After several briefings on the agenda and summaries of work, they broke to settle in the conference room. It was there that Rael'Zorah first touched on the problem which Fera'Xero had alluded to. "Captain, you speak fine words, but you are proposing something that might not exist. There is one world that we know is safe for Quarians: Rannoch."

"We will not know if we do not make the attempt, Admiral. My ship's Chief Medical Officer has briefed me on her understanding of the situation, namely that there is some evidence of primordial bacterial exchange, which the Perseus Veil likely prevented on Rannoch. Our intention would be to concentrate the search on areas where astrological conditions also greatly reduce the chance of such exchanges. It is a multiversal big data problem, as we are approaching it, searching through observed data of these areas in all universes we have access to, then a joint task group of my ship and a squadron of your own would conduct a search, starting with the most likely areas first, over several years if needed. There is support for this, but no political will for any violent conflict with the Geth, Admiral."

"The logistics effort of moving the entire fleet to another universe are an overwhelming problem," Han'Gerrel countered. "Is that, and a search that may last years, really cheaper than a war that with your assistance might be over in a week? Captain, your nation will need to help support the Fleet for the years you are searching. Otherwise, the peoples of this universe will only turn harder against us. Indeed, if we are to follow your advice, we might as well leave now!"

"If a decision is made by the Conclave that it wishes to travel to Alliance space, then the Flotilla _may do so_." Zhen'var leaned forward. "It is believed that approximately two hundred fleet tenders would be required, and I have the authority to indicate that we _will_ support the Migrant Fleet if our proposals are, in some form, accepted. Whether or not it is cheaper, Admiral, the Alliance government will not support the Flotilla in a war of offensive character, when it can extend a hand of support and friendship in peace to the Quarian people."

"You speak words we have not heard the like of in many years, Captain. I wonder, do you truly know the scale of what you are glibly offering?" Admiral Daro'Xen mused, with a sharpness beneath her words.

"Replicators have made morality much easier for the peoples who have them," Abebech offered from Zhen'var's side in response to Admiral Daro'xen.

"Such a technological advance would greatly improve conditions within the Fleet, and reduce the need for Alliance support." The avarice that the head of Special Projects regarded replicators with was not well-hidden.

"That is certainly a matter for discussion during these talks, Admiral." Zhen'var replied, already feeling her head starting to pulse with pain behind her eyes. _I feel as if I am outnumbered five to one…_

The discussions went on from there as the Quarians tried to understand the full range of what was being offered to them. It was clear that Fera'Xero's intelligence had been largely correct, though the Commander himself was absent. Will had pointed out that it was unfair for him to have to participate where there might be a conflict of interest between his oath and his people, he could be a resource, but he shouldn't be at the talks.

* * *

The first day ended with Zhen'var trying to figure out whether or not the Alliance could _actually_ provide the level of support the Quarians wanted when moving into another universe to wait out the discovery of a homeworld. That was the key thing, the Quarians were actually quite willing to move: This universe had done nothing but ill-will to them for centuries, and so even without a homeworld, the prospect of leaving was a desirable one if it meant less abuse of Quarian youth and more opportunities to engage in resource extraction without fighting. But one of the key paranoias that Daro'Xen, Han'Gerrel and Rael'Zorah had clearly expressed was over how to get back if a new homeworld wasn't found.

The matter of how to handle supporting the Quarian fleet for a sustained period of time was one she found herself mulling over long into the night after the receptions had ended, as she moved to the comms terminal in her quarters, moving to sit with a mug in hand. Now it was time to see if she could come back tomorrow with data. She looked at the problem from several angles… _Possible. Difficult, but possible._ "Get me Portland. I will wait." She spoke into the pickup for the duty comms officer on the bridge.

As she waited, the door chimed. They still hadn't disabled the computer voice function since the last update. "Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur."

"Come in, Commander!" she called out, while pressing the door release.

"Captain," Nah'dur offered solicitously. "It seems the first day of negotiations has gone well," she said, moving to stand by the chair in front of Zhen'var and her desk.

"To a point. Stand easy, Commander. Sit, if you wish." The seal on the projector behind her and the 'Waiting to Connect' screen showed rather well what she was doing

"Ooh, that screen. I'm sorry." Nah'dur murmured before moving to sit. "I need Commander Imra to undertake a small mission to pick something up for me, Captain."

"You need… please explain?" Zhen'var's voice was quizzical, though she covered her confusion with the ever-present mug on her desk.

"I've been providing medical assistance to the Krogan, Captain. It's within my remit for independent study as an Alliance Medical Officer."

"Whenever you immediately provide justification as that, Commander, I admit some concern. When you say you are providing medical assistance to the Krogan… do you mean of a sort that has _strategic_ implications?" She almost did _not_ want the answer, but had to confirm her suspicion.

"They have a right to not die just like we do, and it is within my ethical duties as a practicing Surgeon in the Alliance," Nah'dur answered levelly, looking a little challenged. "Of _course_ I am trying to cure the genophage, who else could?"

"The point is granted. I am not attacking you, Commander, but you do understand the _consequence_ … is Colonel Fei'nur aware of this activity, Commander Nah'dur?" Zhen'var's expression had not sharpened, but she had a flicker of worry across her face. This was a wasp's nest that her sister was going to be shaking violently with her actions.

"I am something of an open book to Fei'nur," Nah'dur answered frankly, and stretched her shoulders. "Captain, I just need biological samples to be picked up from a ship Battlemaster Urdnot Wrex is sending them on, and conveyed back to the _Huáscar._ I need to do critical embryo testing to confirm that my solution is actually safe. I am, in fact, rather close to being done."

"I am _not pleased_ to discover you have been doing this without informing me, Nah'dur…" Her sister's gaze flashed with annoyance. "You may ask Commander Imra, yes, but you are _not_ to carry out projects that may jeopardize yourself or the ship without at least _informing_ me, Nah'dur. If the Citadel Council finds out you are doing this…"

"Wrex is trying to save his people from extinction," Nah'dur's face pouted up. "Isn't that what the Alliance is supposed to be about? I mean, really, the Citadel Council can go hang."

"Is that before or after someone attempts to make a shuttle you are traveling on _explode_ , Nah'dur? The Council Spectres are this universe's counterpart to Fei'nur, and someone _will_ send them after you if word of this becomes generally known."

"I carry my personal shield with me everywhere and I sleep with a gun under my pillow," Nah'dur protested.

"What if they do not care for collateral damage, sister…? I _worry_ for you, not just as your captain, Nah..."

Nah sighed. "Sister-Zhen, how will I redeem Dur without feats like these? What better challenge can I lay at the feet of the multiverse? I want to help the Krogan to show how it is done, and to give us a reputation."

"I do not say you should not, or you can not… but I _beg_ you to be cautious to nearly the point of paranoia. You make enemies of sentients full of hate and guile."

"All right. I'm sorry, Sister-Zhen. You will send Abebech..?"

"Of course I will. _You_ will fully brief Colonel Fei'nur, in turn, that she may _plan_ accordingly, is that understood, Commander?"

"Understood. I will find her at on-" Nah'dur trailed off as Zhen'var's comm started chirping with the connection finally having gone through. "...Right now," she added, and rose, snapping a crisp, jaunty salute to Zhen'var.

"Thank you, Nah'dur." Came the Captain's reply, with an honest smile, before she spun her chair, straightening her jacket, waiting for the soft noise of the hatch closing before bringing up the connection.

The screen resolved into the figure of the Alakin Vrishke, who was the Undersecretary for Fleet Diplomacy Initiatives-the person with the awkward job of coordinating the situations in which, like in Starfleet, the Alliance military was leading diplomatic efforts.

"Undersecretary." Zhen'var inclined her head politely. "The Migrant Fleet wishes to depart this universe while waiting upon the discovery of a new homeworld. They will return only if we fail at finding one - I privately suspect to attempt an assault on Rannoch."

"Do they propose a plan on where to go, Captain?"

"Alliance space." Managing not to flinch at the implication was rather impressive, she would tell herself later. "The details depend on the vote of the Conclave."

"Supporting the Migrant Fleet ourselves will be… A significant concession. They can process raw materials themselves, correct?" The Alakin looked almost perturbed at the prospect of it. It was easy for the Alliance to want to help the Quarians settle… And another thing entirely to maintain a fleet of 50,000 ships at government expense.

"They do have factory ships, yes. The other alternative, though I know it has knock-on effects, is to supply replicator technology, which would reduce the mass requirements tremendously by only requiring us to provide fuel, sir."

The Undersecretary paused. "They would need to have their association agreement signed just as your people have, Captain," he answered. "It would be the best alternative. I agree that getting the Quarian fleet to another universe is important; its movements cause continuous risks of conflict throughout Citadel and associated space."

"Agreed. I will present an association agreement, sir, but if we can give them the support they need…" Zhen'var paused. "There may be less than twenty million Quarians, but every power in this universe has been criminally foolish in not taking them in."

"I agree with you," the Undersecretary chuckled, which from an Alakin was a kind of cawing. "If we can put them down in an un-colonised region of space to collect fuel and equipment themselves and supply replicator technology, it will be easily approved, Captain. If fuel support is needed, that will entail a more substantial debate in the Senate."

"They are used to supporting themselves, if they can concentrate on seeking out fuel, I am sure there will be hundreds of ships soon enough doing just that. If a draft association agreement can be sent, _along_ with the specific elements of permitted technological sharing under the same, I am present it at our next session. I think this is a promising start."

"I will have my staff get that out to you by early tomorrow morning, Captain." Which was reasonable, since of course considering the vagarities of space, the Navy ran on Portland time.

"Thank you, Undersecretary. I shall update you based on the reaction."

* * *

Nah'dur, in the meanwhile, had made her way down to the Marine spaces in the engineering hull where Fei'nur was berthed. She had insisted on being with her troops, and it made Nah'dur getting down there from Officers' Country in the upper saucer a bit of an adventure through the kilometre long starship.

As she passed into the Marine spaces, there was a slight change in the feeling around her. Marines squared up their posture and offered a sharp, formal. "Surgeon-Commander." in greeting as she passed. Fei'nur was in her office; she kept the door held open most of the time she was in residence. She heard a polite; " _Huma ta Humas,_ Highness. Thank you." before a console bleeped.

Nah'dur rapped her gloved knuckles on the doorjam. "Colonel Fei'nur," she said. Her voice needed no introduction to Fei'nur who had known her since she was a kit.

"Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur! A pleasure, do come in, sit." The marine closed the hatch behind the doctor, and her face _did_ break into a smile. "What brings you all the way down here, Nah'dur?"

"Exercise," Nah'dur teased. "I walked the whole way. The turbolift seems like cheating." She decided not to comment on the conversation she had heard the tail end of… Until she had impulsively changed her mind a moment later as she stepped in and closed the door. "Were you… Did you make a new friend, Fei'nur?"

"You were there at our hot-wash, Nah'dur. You heard what I said." came the quick, easy answer.

"Oh." Nah'dur opened her mouth and then closed it again. "Well." She changed the subject. "I wanted to talk to you about Battlemaster Urdnot Wrex."

Fei'nur audibly sighed, and leaned back in her chair. "Your Krogan contact. You are preparing to do something that can no longer be hidden, Nah'dur?"

"I got the Captain's permission to send Abebech to recover biological samples from a contact ship," Nah'dur answered. "It's second-stage clinical testing for a partial cure for the genophage." She looked inordinately proud.

"I want to know, in exacting detail, very single time, place, and method of communication you have had regarding this project with someone. The only exceptions are _in-person_ communication on a Union _planet_ , or aboard this ship when we were not docked." Leaning forward, Fei'nur's eyes had locked onto Nah'dur, narrowed and dangerous.

Nah'dur rolled her eyes, sighed, and reached down into her pocket for a small Centauri style data crystal. "Of course, I expected you would ask, so I prepared it on an isolated persocomp I wiped afterwards. I've been communicating with Wrex through a secured private comms link that runs from Alliance territory through the Solarians and then into the Thessian financial services. So the message is being burrowed through the security applied to interuniversal stock transactions."

Fei'nur let out a grunt. "Which means there are likely only three to four intelligence agencies who know about this. Our _issue_ is that one of the likely suspects _cares_." She took the data-crystal. "Nah'dur, as long as we are in this universe, you are in _grave_ danger. Outside it, you _must_ exercise extreme care. You are almost certainly _marked for death_ by the Special Tactics Group. _Do you understand me, Nah?_ " Her voice turning gravelly with emotion by the end, Fei'nur's almost desperate look stayed fixed on her old ward's face all the while.

"Yes I am. Just like Brakiri Intelligence and Drazi Intelligence and at least some rogue elements in Narn Intelligence probably also have me marked for death, along with all of my sisters?" Her eyes flashed. "I am not afraid of having taken on the danger, Fei'nur. But I am aware. I have put myself in danger, and I probably can't leave the ship."

"Not without me with you, no, and it is _different_. They want to kill you for revenge without bringing the Alliance down on them. STG wants to kill you _now_ and _before_ you succeed. I cannot predict how desperate they are. Desperate assassins are dangerous, as they often do not care about extraction afterwards. Remember _everything_ I have taught you."

Nah'dur stiffened to attention and brought her hand up in salute. "I will honour your lessons, Battlemaster. I am doing this for our people." One could see it in those green eyes. She _meant it._

"I will brief Security, without details. And… Nah'dur? You are doing well. _She_ would approve of your fearlessness."

Nah'dur's face shone with pride. "We will have friends when this is done. We will write a new chapter of glory… Thank you, Fei."

With a single nod, Fei'nur cycled her office hatch. "Thank you for stopping by, Surgeon-Commander." Turning her comms panel after a last smile and nod to the ship's doctor, she keyed up intra-ship comms. "Colonel Fei'nur to Major Richards, would you be able to stop by my office? We have a situation to discuss..."

* * *

Storing one perfectly good spaceship inside of another one was always one of those odd decisions which the crew of the _Huáscar_ just had to make do with. Abebech settled into her command chair, holding a mug of coffee and looking at the display read-outs.

"Christmas tree green across the board," Lt. Veeringen reported from engineering.

"We have clearance, Ma'am," the comm rating, 1PO Getty, read off.

"Helm?" Abebech asked Ca'elia simply at those words.

"Ready to answer in all respects, Captain." came the quick reply from the Dilgar at the console.

Abebech took a drink of her coffee and nodded slowly. She knew the reason for this mission-Zhen'var trusted her with it-but she'd have to be circumspect with the rest of her crew. "Take her out, Leftenant."

"Understood. Clearing all moorings… zero-zero. Thrusters, astern one-quarter..." There was no need to rush the intricate process of moving one full-grown starship free of another.

Abebech waited patiently, listening to the status reports and letting Ca'elia do her job. Her eyes were not focused on the Dilgar Lieutenant, she expected her job at shiphandling to be precise and competent by now. It was not long before she called out to the Captain; "Free, clear, and awaiting a course, Captain."

"System sector K-49, X-19, Y-20, Z-1," Abebech instructed, giving the coordinates in local reference rather than a fixed stellar position, which was unusual to begin with. "Full impulse."

"System sector K-49, X-19, Y-20, Z-1, full impulse, aye, Captain." Her hands moved over her console, bringing the engines to life, spinning _Heermann_ about to the required course.

"Kept up a careful watch in the midst of this fleet and obey Traffic Control from the Quarian fleet at all times," Abebech observed.

"Keep careful watch and obey Quarian Traffic Control, aye." With Abebech being hands-off, Ca'elia was watching her repeater displays warily, weaving through the incredibly congested local space with a deft touch.

"We will be making a rendezvous with a Krogan owned vessel and taking aboard hazmat samples to return to the _Huáscar_ for analysis," Abebech explained matter-of-factly. "It would not be appropriate, I am afraid, my crew, to explain more."

Privately, Abebech wondered if her absence from the _Huáscar_ was really that wise.

It spoke well for her crew's faith in her that they didn't even glance to each other with the unasked questions such a pronouncement had to generate.

"It's nice to have business in the midst of the diplomacy."

"Certainly, Commander," Goodenough chuckled. "We don't know what it is, but well enough, anyway." The crew of the _Heermann_ had adapted to the little legend that Abebech had become after 'The 'Verse Mission'. They had all been ordered to secrecy, but nonetheless, the whispers, the sense of it all, continued.

Abebech smiled affiably. If anything, she seemed _more_ laid back after that, with her crew on the _Heermann._ She had taken to _trusting_ them-implicitly. They had earned the finest, closest kind of bond that existed.

"Something of a fifty thousand body problem, isn't it, Leftenant?" She asked Ca'elia comfortably.

"Yes, Captain." came the reply from the young Dilgar, sounding as distracted as she actually _was_ , manouvering their attacker through the congested tangle of the Migrant Fleet.

"We just have to trust everything will go fine with these negotiations," Abebech remarked as she finished her mug and looked to Goodenough. "My personal objective is to see a day when Quarian children aren't in bubbles."

"I'd drink to that, Captain."

"And that's why you're a damned good man, Jonathan."

* * *

The next day started with the complicated ceremonial of avoiding offending anyone with the split breakfast, and then getting down to the details of negotiations. On one side _was_ the heads of State of the Quarian nation, and on the other side… Well, at least Zhen'var had a conversation to go off of with an Undersecretary!

"Good morning, Admirals." Back in her dress uniform again, the Dilgar woman looked far more confident. "Based on our discussions yesterday, I can, subject to negotiation on certain conditions, confirm that the Alliance would permit and welcome the Migrant Fleet to enter our space. Admiral Daro'Xen, with regards to your inquiry, replicator technology is available to any state willing to enter Association with the Alliance, as the Honourable Union of my people has."

There was an exchange of glances among the Quarian admirals. Han'Gerrel seemed to make a frustrated noise. "That is an obfuscation. We will need more than just replicators to safely sustain the fleet in another galaxy, Captain."

"Of course, Admiral." She brought forward a datapad, sliding it across the table. "This is the listing of technology permissible to associated states as per the latest regulations. The current thinking is to send the Flotilla to an uninhabited area, thence free permission to harvest resources in the region to your Migrant Fleet."

"That is how we normally operate, while trying to trade. Would we be allowed to trade?" Zaal'Koris asked.

"Better to provide fuel," Rael'Zorah said, _sotto-voice._

"Trade permissions are included in most Association agreements, I am waiting on Portland to forward me a customized proposal for yourselves and the Conclave to view and debate, sirs. A request for fuel supply can be made, but would require debate by the Senate to consider whether to move the relevant budgetary appropriation, a political matter that I do not have the authority to promise."

Daro'Xen had gotten her hands on the datapad, and her eyes could be seen moving as she scrolled down the list.

Han'Gerrel looked frustrated. "Scavenging far from our usual sources, we would be dependent on you for fuel, and you cannot make us guarantees? Captain, we might be a derelict nation, without means of survival, if that came to pass! How can you offer us something better than returning home in that?"

"You are saying you are unable to harvest fuel from planetary sources, Admiral? I had been unaware, and the offer had been made on the assumption that a concentration upon a singular resource would greatly improve the Fleet's mining efficiency."

"It is unwise to maintain the survival of a people on a single resource," Han'Gerrel answered, and rather fuming, stalked off back to the beverage bulb line.

Daro'Xen instead quietly broke the conversation to lead Zhen'var away. "Captain, that old War-Horse is utterly determined to crush the Geth in main battle," she said softly. "It is a fool's errand. They are our creations, our inheritance. Our problem, in the end. One we can solve from galaxies away as easily as next to them, where their power reaches. Ancestors, but even his officers are such martinets they might as well be VI's shouldn't think too much of his protests. _Of course_ we can suck down a gas giant to refuel the fleet. We have done it before in part. He just didn't want to admit it."

"The Geth problem can be best approached by a Quarian people who are _safe and secure._ If you can make _everything_ with energy, then…" Zhen'var gestured to encompass _Huáscar_. "If we can ensure the Fleet is safe and secure while we are searching for a homeworld, we can take the _pressure_ off your ships' systems, and I can not find fault with such an outcome."

"You have won me over," Daro'Xen answered frankly. "Rendering retaliation against our people impossible makes the Geth problem one we can deal with. Widespread access to technology and trade is more important. Your own people provide an example of this, and frankly, I am very impressed by Dilgar abilities in numerous fields. There is certainly enough room in the multiverse for both of us to specialise in the same way."

"If one is to be stereotypical, a Dilgar makes three universe's technologies work together as if it was intended from the start. A Quarian builds a starship from a food processor, circuit board, and chunk of eezo, if you will forgive that flippancy, Admiral. Most Dilgar see in Quarians a people similar to us; and ones we are most eager to work alongside."

Daro'Xen seemed suspicious for a moment, but one got the impression of a coy smile even if one could never tell through the mask. "Well, Captain, I do indeed believe that will be a profitable relationship. Let us see, then, if we can win over Han'Gerrel. The old warhorse needs to accept that the universe has changed. I think that Rael'Zorah will be more practical when the time for a final decision has come, I respect his intelligence."

"As you say, Admiral. Thank you for the confidence. Alas, but there are not a great many surplus dreadnoughts about, but there are the dregs and cast-offs of the Reich's War Machine, which could perhaps be acquired."

Daro'Xen eyed her for a moment. "I admit, I was not expecting you to offer suggestions on how we could acquire dreadnoughts."

"As I said, Dilgar have on the whole, great sympathies for the Quarian people, Admiral. We would have done such things ourselves, but if we were not economically prostrate."

"If you were not economically prostrate, we would not be having this conversation," Daro'Xen answered cynically. "However, I am not here for counterfactual postulates. For now I would rather deal with your people than any others. If we can work out the details of the support, we could carry the vote now, but for this issue I will instead try for unanimity, Captain."

"I agree with the wisdom, Admiral. I hope to have further information for tomorrow's session." She clicked her heels, and bowed her head. "Admiral."

* * *

Elia had tried to make the best possible time to Naval Station Armstrong to report for routing to the final location of her class, folding and unfolding a paper copy of her travel orders because it was quite likely that her omnitool would be rebooting at the exact moment she needed them out. She'd managed to catch a ride on the _Minneapolis,_ one of the big new Darglan tech dreadnoughts under the command of a newly minted Captain Danielle Verdes. They had fortunately managed a long and rather entertaining conversation on the _Huáscar_ 's starfighter operation tempo.

Making the connection to a commercial liner, she had barely gotten any sleep, considering how hard she had worked to transition her department in the few days she'd had before departing. Running on about ten hours in four days and unable to sleep between the constant transfers, she'd finally gotten to Naval Station Armstrong at about 0200 Portland. The Navy Lodge was stuffed into one of the docking arms and she had to take the internal tube train to the opposite end of the station to reach it. By the time she arrived she figured the bags under her eyes were larger than her eyes themselves, and her efforts to hide them by applying more makeup were steadily starting to fail.

 _Travel is always hell, no matter which way you're doing it,_ she mentally groused as she arrived at the desk and rang the bell a few times, unslinging her duffel. Nobody showed up. The temptation to unstrap her backpack as well was steadily growing overwhelming. _You know if you take it off that the desk clerk will show up._

She gave in and started to take it off anyway. Precisely at the moment that she was slinging it to the floor, the guy behind the desk showed up, wearing a Polo with a logo declaring him to be a proud teammember of Precision Support Services. _Contractors._ In fact, the Corps generally had a good relationship with its own contractors, who were often P-1s and P-2s who weren't legally in the Corps but who still had a hard time finding work in the civilian market, but she had been steadily learning that for other governments … This was manifestly not the case.

"Welcome to The Navy Lodge at Armstrong," the man said in only the most bored tone ever. "Can I see your travel orders, Ma'am?"

Elia made a little noise and fished out the paper, handing it over. He looked slightly irritated at having to unfold the unfamiliar paper copy and then run it through the scanner, but it at least flashed green afterwards, which was all that really mattered. "Okay, I've got your overnight assignment as a visiting officer. You'll have one of our private hotel style rooms…"

"Can I just have the key, please? I really need some rack time."

"I just need you to burst me your government travel account code."

Elia sighed and linked the omnitool. At least she could tell he had no interest in her, no contempt for telepaths, not even any real recognition of the gloves. She was just another Damned Officer showing up in the Middle of the Night and distracting him for the tri-dee he would rather be getting paid to watch. It was rather refreshing, actually.

"Thank you Ma'am."

Walking past him and into the confusing warren of rooms, she found her own and keyed through. Unfortunately the habits ingrained in her after decades of Corps life couldn't be escaped. She stripped, used her makeup removing towelettes and moisturizer on her face to make up for the constant layering, and only then collapsed into bed.

She woke up nine hours later, which gave her just enough time to take a hollywood shower, dry her hair, put on her makeup, get in uniform, pack up, sling her bags, breeze out, and get to the Training Office exactly on time, one more traveling officer on the big station.

She read the name of the Petty Officer behind the desk. He'd probably always been a pencil pusher, but Elia was impeccably polite by nature. "Hey, Chief. Here are my orders," she said, and synched her omnitool. "I just need to know the next leg to the training site and when I'm supposed to depart. My orders were only to the depot here."

The Chief ran the orders and then frowned and typed in something else. Elia tried to keep herself from audibly sighing. _Of course some database is broken and he has to do everything manually._ She could feel his bored and confused frustration, but it only grew as the minutes past. That bothered her.

"Lieutenant Commander?"

"Yes, Chief?" Elia glanced back over, her own face pursed in consternation now, as well.

"You're not in the system. You weren't selected for training."

"But those are valid orders, Chief." She could sense the frustration in people piling up behind her.

"Yes-I know, Ma'am. But you're not in the training database. They were issued by mistake."

"Are you sure it isn't just an error with the training database?"

"There isn't even a profile."

"What if it was accidentally deleted?" Elia speculated, feeling like she was flailing.

"Why don't you call Rear Admiral Tiywinit yourself since she signed the orders?" The Chief pushed back. "Ma'am, there's twelve people in line behind you now."

"I will," Elia answered in frustration, taking the orders back. She didn't even bother to leave, and standing there, commed the Admiral's office directly from her omnitool.

The secretary took down the notes quickly. "I'll check it out for you, Lieutenant Commander. I don't have the slightest idea what's going on. Please wait."

"Of course," Elia answered. With a soft groan, she wandered off to find a replimat and get herself some tea and a scone. Having done so, she found a tri-dee that wasn't on yet and looked up a Test Match, India versus Ireland in some universe. About twenty minutes later, the Admiral's office commed her back.

"Commander, this is Admiral Tiywinit's office. That isn't the Admiral's valid signature. The signature record in her 2FA doesn't have it. Ma'am… It almost looks like these orders were _forged._ "

"Nobody on the _Huáscar_ would do that to me," Elia answered defensively. "And I sure as hell wouldn't drag myself to Armstrong and back for no reason."

"I know, I know. It doesn't make sense. But it's all I have, Ma'am. There's an IT security detachment on Armstrong, you should take the files to them."

"Thank you." _I think._ When the call ended, she started off immediately.

What followed was a bizarre journey that lasted five minutes of walking an hour of waiting as they wouldn't let her in past the office after taking the data. Some bored person in the section was only helping her, she could tell, solely because it let him get out of the mind-numbing mandatory training he had due for another day, so he coded it urgent and started working.

She brought the Test Match back up on her omnitool. _This is surreal._

It was 1352 Portland time when the cryptanalytic Warrant Officer returned with a seriously concerned look on his face and a Alakin Commander in an Intelligence uniform following.

"Commander Saumarez?"

"Sir?" Elia turned the Match off again and go up to stand at attention. "I take it you've found something?"

"Your personnel records were hacked, Commander. Do you have any idea why?"

Elia was almost floored by the news. It sounded ridiculous. She stood there for a moment, thoughtlessly. Then she jerked in place. _Normally in the diplomatic talks I'd be an extra layer of security. If they didn't want that there…_ "The only thing I can think of, Commander, means that we should _urgently_ alert the _Huáscar._ Someone may be planning something at the diplomatic talks with the Quarians aboard."

He looked like he didn't want to allow it, like he was more suspicious about the entire situation in general. But then he allowed a single nod. "We'll send a single alert and direct Security aboard to begin their own investigation. Then I'd like to ask you some questions about the circumstances of how this happened."

"Of course, Commander. Let's just get that alert out, quickly, please. It's the second day of the talks."

"We'll send it from here."

"Like hell you will, that's my ship!"


	42. Episode 8 Act 3

**Act Three**

In the afternoon, the meetings resumed. Now they had reached the point that Rael'Zorah was taking point on trying to extract as many concessions as possible over the details of support, the right to select the destination universe, and guarantees of support in settling and terraforming that he could. All-in-all, that actually meant that the situation was looking good for a consensus agreement. Daro'Xen clearly felt so, and worked in her own technological concerns and expectations as they went.

Feeling more than slightly outgunned, and lacking political support Captain Zhen'var was trying to _give_ concessions she actually had the _authority_ to, having to more than once answer that "Such a question will require a Senate debate, Admiral, I am not authorized to make such a commitment."

It was very manifestly a case of five Admirals, used to exercising political power, all sitting around and engaging with a mere Captain, who precisely because she respected them, felt a little tug of being at least somewhat deferential. This foreign policy process was in fact strange-and without Abebech there, the woman who seemed steadiest and most comfortable as her support in this kind of affair wasn't available for her. Fei'nur was gone too, taking a turn leading the security efforts so Richards could actually get some rack time.

She still was not sure why the Alliance had decided to refrain from sending a diplomat from the foreign office for the negotiations, but she did her best. "I think, Admirals, the afternoon recess is upon us. Shall we?"

* * *

Artesia was talking to some of Shala'Raan's junior officers. She found them companionable, dedicated people who were trying their hardest to grapple with interuniversal logistics for their Admiral, who had been one of the most positive. She wanted the civilian ships away from the hate, the bigotry, the geth. The Alliance provided that and Shala'Raan had a fundamental confidence in her people's ability to deal with resource extraction in another universe even if the details of the material support from the Alliance were not ideal.

She watched the Captain and the Admirals start to move to the refreshment line and collect the offerings in packaged food provided to them. The ship's crew could enjoy real refreshments… But it felt a little hollow when the polite people that you were talking to were stuck slurping out of bags. Artesia-sometimes she still regretted not just joining up under Sayla-wanted to be more courteous than that. She settled for a cup with a lid and a straw, it seemed symbolically equivalent.

A few minutes after they had gone through the line, as Artesia was socialising with some of the Quarians, she abruptly saw one of the Quarian representatives from Han'Gerrel's detachment begin to shiver and shake, and then collapse onto the ground, on the opposite side of the Conference Suite from where she was standing. _Oh crap._

* * *

Chief Sherrod looked transfixed with horror and embarrassment at the fact that one of the Quarians had gotten sick, but she was immediately on it. "Medical Emergency in Conference Suite One, Main Hospitality Room."

Nah'dur was in one of the other rooms and came at a dead run. She had been conversing with the Quarians cheerfully-she had been extensively talking with Admiral Daro'Xen and her staff in fact (Daro'Xen's eyes always seemed to be bright when talking to Nah'dur)-she raced up to the side of the collapsed Quarian where several other Quarians clustered around him. Nah'dur was _always_ prepared, and in this case she had a backpack on for the conference with her full medical kit.

"It was an incorrect chiriality beverage, Surgeon-Commander!" One of the other members of Han'Gerrel's staff urgently said.

"That's ridiculous, everything was colour-coded, shape-coded and served from separate tables, we had every passive protection possible," Nah'dur snapped as she ran the scans, frowning, and frowning again.

" _Keelah,_ I saw it myself, Surgeon-Commander."

Nah'dur grimaced and turned away from the Quarian's friends, rising as the crash cart arrived. "Treat as reverse-chiriality poisoning," she instructed to the medical team as she swung in with them. She still sounded almost grudging about the diagnosis as she focused on the results of her scanner with a suspicious look dominating her face.

* * *

"Lieutenant?"

Daria was drinking _lltahk_ tea on the bridge and observing the manoeuvring plots for keeping them out of trouble in the midst of a fleet of _fifty thousand ships,_ whose blips completely dominated any tactical display. As the Officer of the Watch, it was all her job and her responsibility with the Captain conducting diplomacy as well as most of the senior officers.

She paused, flexed an ear, and looked back to Lieutenant Orallian, who had asked the question. "Go ahead, Ops."

"We're getting a priority message from Naval Station Armstrong. It's from Naval Intelligence. It says that Commander Saumarez's orders were faked and… Getting a live message."

"Put it on," Daria put her tea aside, blinking in confusion. Then she heard the familiar voice.

" _Huáscar_ Actual, This is Commander Saumarez. I believe there is a threat to the ship…"

" _Elia?"_ Daria answered, blinking hard. "Why do you…?"

"Leftenant Seldayiv, it might happen at any time..!"

Daria thought about the embarrassment to the government of having an alert in the middle of the conference. She wasn't sure in the slightest what was going on. But she trusted Elia Saumarez.

One of her blue fingers slipped down across the selector and firmly depressed the button which indicated a security alert.

"My orders were faked, Leftenant. They wanted me away from the conference," Elia was explaining, and it sounded like shushing someone else speaking in the background as she did.

Daria tensed. "Alert's called, Commander."

* * *

Artesia was wearing a small, unobtrusive earpiece linked to her Omnitool. The alert chimed into it. She spied Nah'dur and frowned. Something was wrong, _just wrong,_ about the entire situation, and she started to move toward the crash cart as it was leaving, following them, and moving from a fast walk into a run as she listened to the report from the bridge.

As she did, Fei'nur heard the same report, and started running into the Conference Suite with her own emergency response group. But Artesia was closer, and it was Artesia who left the Conference Suite and hastened up to Nah'dur's side, reaching her several frames ahead. Her hand flashed with a combat sign warning the Surgeon-Commander as she flickered up in confusion.

Nah'dur halted the cart. "Clear out!" She ordered her team with a voice that was so emphatic it was difficult to believe. They scattered instantly, not questioning the order as Nah'dur brought up her scanner-and then started in a dead run for Artesia. " _Go, Go, Go! Flying Officer, move!"_

Artesia felt her veins chill and time slow down as she realised how acutely dangerous this was. _Not without you, Ma'am._ Her eyes flickered along the corridor and she spied one of the blast reinforced emergency decompression shelters. Lunging with one hand out, she grabbed Nah'dur and diverted the woman's momentum so that they both went crashing in.

* * *

Fei'nur and her team had gone pounding through the conference room as Quarians retreated and turned away in confusion, surprise and concern. She reached the Admirals and Zhen'var-both the Quarians and her Captain turning toward her-only seconds later.

Looking around, and realising Nah'dur was gone, a terror flickered through her eyes that Zhen'var had never seen before. It passed without words or other expression. There was no time for anything else.

The bomb detonated. The powerful mini-fusion device ripped into the hull of the _Huáscar._ It incinerated the corridor, including the robotic Quarian body controlled by a VI that had contained it, and the crash cart. A wave of plasma swept from the inside out into armour meant to blow out in similar conditions to minimise damage, into armour meant to handle explosions from the outside, not the inside.

As the armour did its job to make sure that the ship was safe, it also peeled outwards and downwards from the ventral surface of the saucer. A splash of white hot plasma surged through it, venting quickly to space. As the overpressure from the plasma was vented into space, the doors which had been in front of them buckled… And then bent back from the depressurization when they had already failed from the overpressure damage.

Air erupted out of the Conference Suite, an outrushing explosively through the heavily damaged sector which threatened to drag people off their feet.

Captain Zhen'var felt her shoes starting to slide over the deck as the air whipped around her, and she frantically tried to shift, before an iron bar of an arm slammed around her midsection as Fei'nur bodily yanked her off her feet, holding her close to a surprised yowl from the Captain as the Spectre planted herself, as unphased as if she was rooted to the deck.

Fei'nur leaned away with the Captain locked against her, balancing herself precisely with her arms like iron around Zhen'var. Then, abruptly, as stars were starting to form in Zhen'var's head from the lost oxygen, the feeling snapped off as a distant, faint sound in thin air boomed, the emergency doors for the conference suite slamming shut. Still being held by Fei'nur, she went to her omnitool, asking for an automated status update. She was a Captain, and her ship had been attacked.

* * *

For a moment, there was perfect silence on the bridge as the shudder finished running through the _Huáscar._ The officers and ratings were looking to Daria. An alarm began to insistently beep on Lieutenant Orallian's console. He looked to Daria. "Ma'am, the hull has been compromised. We're losing air through Sector 10-19."

"Set Material Condition Zebra throughout the ship," Daria answered as her hands gripped down on the granite of the Captain's armrests.

"Ma'am, we are not at General Quarters, we'll trap people in their berths when they're losing air…"

"MC ZEBRA, LIEUTENANT!"

"MC Zebra," Orallian repeated, the Gersallian sense of social duty winning over respect for life as he activated the control. Alarms began to howl throughout the ship as the emergency bulkheads slammed closed and the doors began to automatically seal.

Daria flipped her intercom to shipwide signals. "General Quarters, General Quarters. This is the Officer of the Watch, All Hands to General Quarters!" That order cut like a knife while the bulkheads were _already closing._ It meant that everyone would be stumbling from their bunks and forced to undog and dog hatches in prescribed sequences according to the Damage Control Bill for their sector to reach their GQ post as rapidly as possible. With the ship damaged and with areas in vacuum, that was hell itself.

 _They've got us. The_ Heermann, _damn,_ she thought. "Comms, warn Ray-Ban in code to be alert for hostile action!" They were also the only fighting fit combat unit they had in the area.

"Yes Ma'am!"

It was then that Daria saw the trilling, angry symbol on the command chair display, and selected it. "Captain, Ma'am. _Huáscar Actual,_ " she enunciated herself to show that she had positive control of the ship from the bridge as the Officer of the Watch and the _Huáscar_ was not out of control.

"Understood. One of the Quarians was a bomb in disguise. There likely are more intruders. I shall leave you to the ship. I will see to the Admiralty Board. Zhen'var, out." Short, sharp, direct, and not questioning Daria's decisions as the woman on the spot, that was her Captain's style.

As soon as that connection dropped, however, there was another flaring to life on the display.

"Colonel?" Daria asked. She didn't know that the two women were standing next to each other, Fei'nur having only just released her iron embrace of Zhen'var to keep her on her feet.

"Continuing on the Captain's observation, Commander, the Quarian-shaped bomb in question was brought aboard with _Admiral Han'Gerrel's staff."_

"Thank you, Colonel." Something was still wrong, as a chill gripped Daria's heart. "We're acting on it. Got to go, Ma'am." she flipped the intercom line over to PriFly. "PriFly Actual? Get every sensor you have and point it at Admiral Han'Gerrel's shuttle."

* * *

As Zhen'var and Fei'nur turned toward Han'Gerrel in the still thin air of the conference suite, a voice crackled overhead through a dimly functioning and staticy intercom. "This is Lieutenant Hia'zhir, Assistant DCO. I have DCC. I assume all duties and responsibilities for damage control onboard _Huáscar._ " This declaration to the entire crew was, from a newly transferred aboard junior officer, utterly matter-of-fact and completely calm.

 _The Union trains them well, still._ Zhen'var stepped closer to the Quarians assembled, watching the ice crystals from the sudden pressure drop still melting away. "Admirals, we will be evacuating you from _Huáscar_ until such time as the situation is under control!"

"Half my staff is missing," Han'Gerrel thundered. "How will you find them? What happened to _Tar'Fenrel_ with your Surgeon-Commander?"

The other Quarian Admirals were already looking to him with none-too-kind looks.

Fei'nur's look was _dangerous_ , and she stepped dangerously close. " _Sir_ , either through _ignorant incompetence_ or _malice_ you have brought explosive devices, one of whom was in the _shape of your aide_ aboard this ship. I must assume that your missing staff are hostile agents if they are no longer under your command. You can evacuate voluntarily, or be carried after being stunned. The choice is yours. I suggest you choose quickly."

"I will go with the others," he said after a sallow, pregnant pause.

"This was not an act of Quarians," Rael'Zorah came as close to snarling as any Quarian they had heard. "You have my word, Captain."

"I accept it." Zhen'var was not even grudging. "This is much more the work of Special Tasks or Commandos, I would say, given the intended target." Her worried look to Fei'nur spoke volumes.

"Possible, even probable. I will be leading my team in before they can cause more destruction. Captain." The colonel finished with a nod of respect to Zhen'var, before turning and jogging off.

* * *

Lieutenant Hia'zhir was looking at far more experienced Petty Officers around her who expected her to know how to do this. The holoprojector in the middle of DCC showed the Damage Control Bill and the secondary one was projecting the ship condition status. There was no report from the DCO; she was in charge. Because of the configuration of the ship, the damaged decks were the responsibility of Repair 1 since they traveled continuously through the ship with the 'neckless' configuration of the class from fore to aft and integrated with the hangar decks in the engineering hull. Unlike Federation ships the _Huáscar_ was not designed to ever be split in two and that section was her massive armoured keel.

With the crew trying to struggle their way to stations through closed bulkheads and spacetight doors, damage control was a mess. She put a headset on so she could speak without the chatter behind her. "Repair 2, this is DCC Actual. You are assuming response duties for Repair 1, muster at designated muster point 23-Delta and take leadership over personnel of Repair 1 in the saucer section to begin advancing. We are linking you sensor indications of fire, null-sensor compartments and sensor indications of vacuum now."

"This is Chief Melkampf, I am ranking in Repair 2 at muster point 23-Delta at this time, Ma'am. I need a report from the bridge so we know which sections have personnel in the survival shelters."

"Understood, Chief. You'll have it by the time you muster your full crew at 23-Delta." Hia'zhir thought about it and turned to one of her ratings. "Fi'jar, pull that directly from the sensors, don't bother the bridge with it."

"I obey!"

It sounded a little like a Dilgar ship. Hia'zhir reached out and grabbed futilely at her uniform shirt, wishing it had buttons so that there was a hole for her to stuff her hand into to get it out of the way and look dignified. _Gods, gods, gods, if I screw this up it will reflect badly on the whole Union._

But she didn't reveal any of that. "Get me Repair 9," she directed, looking at the status reports. They shouldn't have been a problem, but.. The EVA team. "DCC Actual to Chief Dugan, I don't see any of your people greenlighting at the hangar airlocks, please report."

"DCC Actual," Rick's voice conveyed so much sarcastic confidence in that moment. "We have a problem. You need to pull back Repair 3 through 3c, Propulsion Repair 6 and the Aviation Fuel and Repair Team and Crash and Salvage Team now, Ma'am. There's going to be a second explosion in the main shuttle hangar and it's going to be a big one."

For a moment, Hia'zhir's eyes glinted very peculiarly. Then she calmly asked the human Chief: "Do I broadcast on 1MC?"

"Yeah, do it. We're not negotiating with these shits, Ma'am."

"DCC Actual out." She flipped the channel to the 1MC. "All hands this is DCC Actual. Pull back from Sectors 0 thru 22 Gamma. I repeat pull back from Sectors 0 thru 22 Gamma. Repair Threes, Repair 6, AFR and CST, pull back to Section Xulu, Section Hotel, Section Foxtrot. I repeat pull back to Section Xulu, Hotel, Foxtrot according to position. Dog and secure all Class W hatches on retreat. I repeat, Dog and Secure all Class W hatches on retreat."

Then she flipped the intercom again, standing as composed as she could with the crew in DCC working around her. "PriFly Actual this is DCC Actual. I am preparing to kill distribution power to Section Gamma. Please confirm if you need any circuit buses energized."

"Bay tractor beam distribution power," Stasia's voice answered. Even Hia'zhir could hear the tension across the species boundary. "I'm trying to keep you out of a job in Gamma. Out."

* * *

When the rumble went through the ship, PriFly, on the elevated viewing position on the upper-aft-right quadrant of the saucer at the neckless-neck of the ship where it could survey all landing and hangar operations from a traditional offset, hanging from its own pylon with windows in every direction-even some through the floor-was the most heavily shielded and also vulnerable place on the ship. Stasia at any kind of alert had her full crew in suits with helmets ready to don. PriFly had vibrated, and it was a peculiar thing, not like the normal experience of the ship.

Then all Hell had broken loose. Alarms howled through the ship and the space-tight doors began to close. It wasn't Stasia's job to worry about internal parts of the ship away from the hangar bays, but she couldn't help but think about the fair number of friends she had aboard who might be in harm's way, or already dead.

She had certainly felt that unfortunate feeling before, on both the _Aurora_ and the _Huáscar._ Stasia could see nothing around in the range of her sensors except for the Quarian fleet, but the Quarian fleet was utterly massive. _How hard really would it be to slip a ship into this mass with all the foreign vessels?_ This was her job. "Stand by all alert flights," she ordered into her mic. "Alert Flight, _Launch on Warning,_ " she ordered first, and then to the others in Combined Squadron 2 of Combined Wing (WC) 50: "SC.2, Alert Five."

And then only minutes later, Daria's voice, chill and very precise, overrode her channel. "PriFly Actual? Get every sensor you have and point it at Admiral Han'Gerrel's shuttle."

Stasia paused for a moment, and then-she heard the chatter on the intercoms, she knew it was a bomb-wordlessly brought her controls for the bay instrumentation. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Ma'am," she answered after a moment. "Synching the feed to the bridge…"

Ensign Melkaria, sitting at science, ran the continuous feed from PriFly, and then ran it again. "Chief Héen," the Dorei said, "there's a waver in the K-band."

"Sensor auto-diagnostic… Checks out, Sir. That's legit, which means…" Stasia trailed off. "That sensor image is false."

"Concur," Melkaria nodded.

Daria closed her eyes. _Oh Goddess, it's big enough to wreck all of the engineering hull if it has a fusion bomb inside of it._ "Get that shuttle off the ship, Chief!"

"On it, Ma'am." Stasia swiveled her chair and brought up the holoplots. She grabbed the shuttle in the docking bay and started to move it while she overrode the lockdowns on the shuttle bay doors and opened them in rapid emergency mode and then sounded the evacuation alarms which would have her personnel evacuating the bay proper. "Ma'am," she said as the shuttle started to move, "I have SC.2 on Alert 5. I have the Alert wing ready to go. I want to launch them."

"Wing?" Daria answered, synching Lar'shan into the conversation.

"The launch tubes may be misaligned," the Marine Major answered. "I'd like to have…"

"Sir, your pilots will die in their tubes if this thing goes," Stasia interrupted him.

"Do it, Chief," he answered.

"Alert Flight, _Launch!_ " Four Mongeese exploded out of the forward tubes, two simultaneously each time at a two second interval. "SC.2, stand by for emergency launch. Confirm spacetightness and go." She handed them off to her second, Chief Petty Officer Gerrik, and focused all of her attention on the shuttle. At least if they got the fighters in space they'd have twenty starfighters between them and whatever was gunning for them if they had spaceborne reinforcements, though it seemed impossible if they would in the middle of the Quarian fleet, it might be a hostile faction…

Then a voice spoke, fast, disorganised to a human mind, on the open channel in the base. " _Huáscar_ bay control halt immediately! You will suffer consequences if the body of the Surgeon-Commander is not confirmed! This shuttle is rigged to explode!"

Stasia flicked the mic on. _Nailed you, you fuckers._ "With you in it?" She brought up the video feed from the bay, and watched as spacesuited and armoured figures began to spill out of the shuttle as it moved, using thrust packs and gravity boots to secure themselves as Stasia killed the bay gravity instantly to make it as hard as possible for them to escape.

It was a race. The team inside the shuttle had been waiting for someone else to do the termination job, the confirmation job. The shuttle bomb was probably a backup option-one they were using because the crew of the Huáscar had quickly caught up to what they were doing and in consequence to it had started to eject their shuttle into space. Otherwise it was there to secure their escape, which they'd have to arrange some other way now.

But it meant that Stasia had a window to actually complete her mission. The team inside the shuttle had to get out of the bay before they could set the bomb off. Stasia's hands flew across the controls as she worked the bay tractor beam controls and accelerated the shuttle toward the open bay doors. " _Huáscar_ Actual, power down the warp drives and begin to evacuate the engineering spaces!"

Daria confirmed it at once. "Engineering, power down the warp drives and pull back from the bay and the aft actions! Marines, pull back from Sector Foxtrot to Hotel!"

The team from the shuttle were cutting through closed bulkhead doors to escape from the shuttle bay. They used energy field disruptors to take down the shields trying to prevent them from doing it, and then in a flash and a spurt of air, they were through, using their own portable shield to seal the airlock behind them as the rest of the team went charging in. Stasia snapped one of her spare tractor beams on repulsion and aimed it at that section of the deck and the rearguard of the team went flying into bulkheads and across the metal decking. _That'll slow ya._

The shuttle was now at the cusp of the doors as the rearguard of the team recovered and hastened on to the airlock they had blasted through and reestablished. Stasia tensed and bit her lip. "Our shields should hold but hang on," she called out as the shuttle cleared the bay and then she barked "Bay doors closed, now!"

One of her subordinates as on it and she stayed on the tractors, bringing the primary docking approach tractors up to full power and snapping them on to full repulsion. As she did, a massive flash rent the dark of space right aft of the _Huáscar_ and the blast washed over the engineering hull and the upper nacelles. The bay doors, partially jammed, showed through her scanners a howling flare of plasma and radiation bake their way into the shuttle bay, crumpling scanner-heads and searing paint lines off the deck. The camera went to static for a moment before the image from further back in the hangar returned. It had been below the threshold to destroy small craft in the hangar, which meant the damage wasn't serious, though the main hangar doors were jammed open and buckled with a visible bent angle.

Stasia let her breath out slowly and sank back into the plush fake leather of her control chair. She pushed the equipment away. "Did SC.2 get airborne before it went off?" She asked quietly.

"We got 'em out, Chief."

"Thank God." She pulled one of the flexible arm mounted interfaces back over and selected the bridge. " _Huáscar_ Actual, this is PriFly Actual. Threat is neutralized. Main bay is out of action, doors are jammed and deranged. Internal subsystem damage… Based on our vantage point, I would check the warp drives before charging them."

"Good work, Chief," Daria answered. "DCC Actual, this Huáscar Actual. I want EVA teams checking the integrity of the drives." On the bridge, the tension didn't change. They had dealt with another threat, but they were isolated, disabled, fighting their wounded ship, and not sure if they were in the midst of friendlies or hostiles.

* * *

The familiar image of Fei'nur was a sight to rally and steady most of the security and marine personnel now still gathered in the Conference Suite. "Double-check suit integrity, we are going in! We have hostiles in the ship and casualties to extract. Team leaders, sound off readiness!"

A chorus of "Squad ready" as they checked their suits-using the ready reserves positioned in the Conference Suite to secure into them and activating personal shields to protect them with-answered back to her. Only the Marines had full armoured pressure suits as opposed to standard emergency suits with shields to protect them, though, and that was only because the armour was integral to a pressure suit when the helmet attachments were snapped on, precisely to allow a quick conversion to vacuum operations.

"Colonel Fei'nur," Major Richards' Nawlins voice cut in to the channel as another shudder ran through the ship-which made many of Fei'nur's troops exchange glances. Another shudder was Not Good. "We have what is tentatively an STG team coming up from the main shuttle bay through the engineering hull. They briefly negotiated with Chief Héen and they threatened to detonate a much larger bomb-it's just been neutralized, the ship took more damage but not bad-if we didn't allow them to confirm the Surgeon-Commander's… Neutralization."

"Major Richards, you have command of the effort to delay and contain the enemy advancing into the ship. I will take command of the response team. We will meet them head-on in the damaged areas. Marines will take point!"

"Understood, Colonel. We'll stop them. Colonel, I have some good news. Internal security sensors can confirm that there are four indeterminate life signs in the vacuum area-seem like they're still reading as Quarian. But there's also at least fourteen life signs in the broader area in the survival shelters. The indeterminate life-signs are working their way back around to the area of the survival shelters, Colonel."

"They are seeking to finish off the Surgeon-Commander." Her voice was utterly flat. "Thank you, Major. We are going in."

Lieutenant Callahan finished forming up the troops as Fei'nur finished her conversation. "We're ready, Colonel," he said simply. "We'll need to find a suitable set of bulkheads to make our own airlock."

"Follow me, Lieutenant. We do not have much time, we will depressurize another corridor if we must. _Expedite_."

* * *

There were times when a Captain simply had to trust her crew. For Zhen'var, with her background and circumstances, that was the psychological challenge she was faced with right then and there. She had to get the Quarians to their only means of evacuation, since they wouldn't use transports-her Captain's Yacht at the centre-ventral point of the saucer section.

"Admirals, follow me, please. You will be evacuated via small craft and returned to your ship with the utmost alacrity." Mentally, she was wincing at the need to get through the spinal area of the ship under ZEBRA, already tapping her omnitool to come up with the DC overrides she would have to work before and behind the evacuation party, as well as the map of the doglegs that would have to be traversed to avoid setting off the master alarms.

Arterus arrived with the rest of the staff from the other part of the suite. "I can take the Yacht to return them to their ships, Captain," he said smoothly as he arrived, looking at the door on the far end of the conference suite from the detonation and the steel wheel they'd have to spin.

"You are the Captain and this is your ship," Daro'Xen's eyes glowed sharply. "We will make sure that the Fleet supports you the moment that we can communicate with our forces. Do we know who caused this, Captain?"

"Our working assumption is the Special Tasks Group, but confirmation shall wait for forensics, Admiral. Lieutenant, your offer is accepted. Let us begin at once. This will not be a simple transit through the corridors." She gestured for Arterus, to assist her in un-dogging the first of a great many hatches they would have to move through.

The strength of a Rihannsu man was considerable, and he put his back into it, and they moved into the first corridor. They were evacuating something like sixty people in all including the food service staff. But as they passed through, the Quarians turned back to the hatch. They knew what to do, they were a spacefaring people and had been for centuries. They quickly moved to secure it of their own volition-they would keep things moving. As soon as the telltales flashed green, Zhen'var bent her own strength to the next hatch, checking her omnitool at each compartment to guide the group onwards.

Shala'Raan leaned in with her. Despite their fragility in their suits, Quarians were actually incredibly strong. They were starting to catch up, of course, the group would never be as fast as a damage control crew, but it was something. "You must wish to get to a control station as soon as you can, Captain."

"My crew has the situation in hand, Admiral. They would not hold the positions they did if I did not have confidence in their initiative. The mission puts your safety as a higher priority than effort to get myself to a command position, and they know it." She glanced up after she'd finished the little speech.

"Then let us get ourselves out of your feathers, Captain." She cheerfully went to another spacetight door. The natural sociality and helpfulness of Quarians extended, for the most part, to their admirals. Behind them, though, Rael'Zorah quietly fumed; Han'Gerrel's incompetence with his own security arrangements all but guaranteed the Return faction's defeat.

* * *

The survival shelters placed throughout the ship were fitted with large numbers of adjustable fit spacesuits and emergency response equipment. They were meant to shelter a small number of crew as they suited up, and they were everywhere, stationed at regular, convenient intervals down corridors and with increasing density in high traffic areas where there would be more people.

Artesia's lunge had carried her into direct contact with Nah'dur and then toppled the Dilgar into the survival shelter. And now the two of them were trapped in it, the display readout inside, powered by a battery, clearly showing the vacuum beyond.

Artesia sat on the floor, looking up at the uneasily standing Nah'dur. Nah'dur was looking back at her.

"You know," Nah'dur said emphatically. "Will you tell anyone?" Her surface thoughts on the hour of death had flung back to her mother.

Artesia knew. She shook her head. "How could Artesia Som Deikun condemn a woman for the circumstances of her birth, Surgeon-Commander?"

"Hypocrisy is the universal constant," Nah'dur flipped back and then shrugged. "We don't need to talk more about it. Help me with the plasma welder, please."

"Sure, Surgeon-Commander. Why?" Artesia asked as she rose and helped Nah'dur lever the instrument down, and immediately pop out the control panel.

"I am hot-wiring it to remove the safeties. That will give us enough range to make it a useful weapon." She looked up. "We are not out of danger yet, Leftenant. They will be coming for me."


	43. Episode 8 Act 4

**Act Four**

They were running silent and under cloak as they left the Migrant Fleet behind. Ca'elia had the bridge, and everything was normal as the _Heermann_ carried on. It was a good opportunity to stand the watch, after they had stood out from the dense traffic of the Migrant Fleet.

The command chair was far less comfortable than it looked, the young Dilgar lieutenant thought, perched on the edge of it as she looked across the crew at their stations. Not a great many Captains would have given as young an officer as her the watch without staying on the bridge themselves, she _thought_.

Then the message indicator chimed for PO Ghisi at comms and the Alakin turned to her. "Ma'am, priority comms from the _Huáscar,_ under code. It's an alert signal for hostile action."

Without hesitation, she flipped up the cover on her armrest that sounded the battle stations klaxon. "Sensor sweep out to maximum range, call out any unexpected contacts." She was already un-fastening the lap restraint she kept on per regulation. The chair would not be hers much longer, Ca'elia strongly suspected.

About fifteen seconds later, Abebech appeared, throwing a jacket over what seemed like a mix of uniform and nightclothes which managed to be reasonably dignified enough for an extended action. "Report, Leftenant." It was not a question.

Ca'elia rose from the command chair, automatically moving to helm. "Priority signal from _Huáscar,_ coded alert signal for hostile action. I have ordered a full sensor sweep and called the crew to stations, Captain."

"I have the bridge," Abebech confirmed, indicating that Ca'elia's decisionmaking had been correct as she moved to sit, and then activated the intercom. "All hands, this is the Captain speaking. Assume Material Condition Zebra throughout the ship!"

It was with a feeling of relief that Ca'elia settled back at the helm, tapping the configuration back to _her_ preferred settings, with the repeater displays and sensitivity dialed up moderately above baseline.

Goodenough arrived a minute later and took up position at his own panel. "A warning from the _Huáscar,_ Captain?"

"Yes," Abebech answered. "What's the chatter in the Migrant fleet?"

Goodenough turned toward the comm channels, and a moment later his face twisted into a sharp grimace. "Nothing good, Captain."

"Splitscreen," Abebech directed, and a moment later she frowned and reached for the coffee that Mehmet had dropped off as he moved to his own station. She still had time for a flashed smile of thanks.

The splitscreen showed Migrant Fleet rebroadcast footage from many angles of a fusion explosion ripping from the inside out, scattering hull armour plates, on the lower port ventral side of the _Huáscar_ 's side. "Near the conference suites," Abebech said simply. "A terrorist attack on the talks."

" _Huáscar_ is still under control, Captain." Ca'elia called out from the helm. Focusing on _that_ made it easier to ignore that the massive explorer that was their host ship was wounded and under attack from within.

"Yes, she would be… We have a sincerely good ship, Leftenant," Abebech answered, pausing for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "I've seen it before, I'll see it again. The crew on the bridge rallies, Damage Control Central takes over the fight, the ratings struggling into position through undogging and dogging hatches, the work is done... No matter how bad the initial blow, the ship fights on. Good morale, good training, _esprit d'corps._ Now let's see what's around us. Goodenough?"

"We have our rendezvous ahead, Captain," the former Royal Navy Gunner answered.

"Vector is set, Captain. Moving us closer." The Dilgar helmswoman called out. "Are we clear?"

Mehmet bent over the tactical display. "I… No. Captain, six small vessels, no IFFs, bearing one-four-two mark six."

"On screen, full magnification."

It took only a moment before Abebech nodded sharply in the wake of her own words. "Hirelings. They're coming for our rendezvous." A pause. "We are in a combat zone, the _Huáscar_ has been attacked, we must assume these events are linked. Come about, one-eight-six mark two. We will plot an intercept course, helm."

Tapping at keys, it was barely a second before Ca'elia called out; "One-eight-six mark two, aye aye, Captain. Intercept course... " A few seconds later came the confident. "Plotted, ma'am!"

"...Countermand. We must be mindful of the rules of engagement," Abebech corrected herself quickly. "Proceed to our contact, at _best possible speed,_ and take up a position behind her. Goodenough, stand by to deploy a communication probe on my mark."

The helmswoman's hands flew over her console, lining up the short burst of warp drive that would deposit them directly behind the contact. "Proceeding at best possible speed, aye aye, Captain! Warp coils charged..."

"Engage," Abebech ordered sharply, and then activated the intercom. "All hands, all hands. This is not a drill. We expect imminent hostile action."

The whine of the engines, throwing them forward in the sudden elongation and a flash, shifted abruptly as Ca'elia swung them about sharply to bring the fore weapons to bear as soon as they slowed back to sublight speeds.

"Deploy the comms buoy and mask us behind our contact," Abebech ordered, first to Goodenough and then to Ca'elia. Then she looked to Mehmet: "Stand by to transfer power to weapons."

"Comms buoy out," Goodenough reported, watching the display as the _Heermann_ interposed their contact between them and the approaching enemy.

"Mask us behind the contact, aye aye…" The engines flared to life at lower power, swinging them into position.

"Goodenough, synch the communications probe…"

"Done, Captain."

Abebech stabbed a button on her armrest. "Unidentified flotilla, this is the Alliance Starship _Heermann._ The contact you are on an intercept course with is under our protection. You will stand down and withdraw or we will be forced to take appropriate measures to defend them." She hit mute on the feed. "Helm, fastest possible manoeuvre to clear us to firing position. Stand by."

There was beeping from the helm console before Ca'elia called out; "Maneuver to firing position laid in, Captain!"

"Alliance starship, we are here on Council business," a voice snarled back a moment later. "Stand down or we will engage."

Abebech reactivated the channel. "No."

The laconic response did not receive an immediate reply. Abebech watched sharply as the squadron, lined up and in position, opened fire… On the position of the communications probe.

"I believe that demonstrates hostile intent against an Alliance warship." Abebech sent a final tight beam to the comms probe that they hadn't hit yet: "If you fire on our contact, you _will be fired upon._ " Then she killed the channel. They finally hit the probe a few seconds later. "Stand ready."

"Bringing us about to firing position!" came the call from her helmswoman, reading _intent_ in what Abebech had said and acting immediately upon it.

When the comms probe exploded, the attacking mercenaries knew they were being played. Whether or not they understood precisely what the true level of stealth technology the _Heermann_ had was, or if they thought it was a feint from the damaged _Huáscar,_ Abebech didn't know or care.

"Tactical, target the second ship," Abebech directed, noting their angle.

"Second ship in line targeted, Captain," Mehmet confirmed. "Captain… They are firing."

Abebech watched the first railgun rounds lash out. The Krogan mercenary frigate began violent evasives, still not sure where help was. Abebech was about to provide them with an answer.

"Transfer power to weapons!"

"Transferring power to weapons!" Veeringen's voice from engineering echoed over the comm.

"Tactical, fire torpedoes!"

The forward torpedo tubes erupted with the ready stock salvoing as the power surged and flared sufficiently to accelerate them down the tubes as the _Heermann_ rippled into view. The first torpedoes roared down _en echelon_ to the target and detonated.

"Cannon, same target."

As the second authorisation was given, the pulse cannon fired as well, and following in on the solar torpedoes which had brought the shields of the light mercenary attack ship down… The corvette was blown right to hell in a guttering explosion, followed by implosion of the Eezo core, as the bursts of fire tore deep into an unprotected and already damaged hull. Abebech allowed a very small smile. "Helm, evasive."

The young Dilgar at the helm swung _Heermann_ into a sharp, twisting 'dive' relative to the ship she had just destroyed without hesitation, steering them violently away from the firing arcs of the mercenary ships.

"They're ignoring us, Captain, and coming about on our contact," Goodenough reported crisply. "They've got their eye on the prize."

"And what a prize it is," Abebech muttered tautly. "The rendezvous is blown. No need to fight five to one. Helm, Science, get us between the enemy and our friend and link our FTL sensors to the contact ship. That should give them enough precision to do an FTL jump directly into the middle of the Quarian fleet. Science, alert the Quarians that a friendly will be coming in _danger close._ Any ship violating assigned vectors is at a risk for collision. Now helm, buy enough time for them to get out, please."

"Understood, Captain, interposing and buying time for the friendly vessel!" _Now just to not let us be hit too hard ourselves!_ Ca'elia's nerves tingled as she swung _Heermann_ hard over at full thrust.

She was rewarded with the objective, as the _Heermann_ snapped sharply and buffeted under the impact of the massed weapons fire.

"Shields holding, Captain," Abel reported over the intercom.

Abebech looked at the screen. "Tactical plot. Science, update?"

"Working on synching to their drive coordinates data-system," Goodenough gritted his teeth. "It's not easy."

"Captain, they're firming up their firing solutions, continuing to evade as long as possible." Ca'elia called out, rolling up and over on their beam ends before spinning into a 'dive' relative to the mercenary fleet.

Mehmet salvoed the forward pulse cannon as he got a chip shot. So far they had not held a perfect firing solution for him to reprise his success against the first ship, but he had kept firing to keep their tails off of the _Heermann_ as much as possible, anyway.

"Now would be a nice time, Goodenough…" She looked down at her gloves and then curled a lip. "Helm, turn into them. Weapons, stand by forward batteries…"

"Bringing weapons to bear, Captain, aye aye." came the quick reply from her helmswoman, as the _Heermann_ came about.

Mehmet needed no orders. As the batteries roared in the deckplates and the torpedoes salvoed, the enemy flushed into their own evasive manoeuvres. The first encounter had taught them respect for the firepower of the Attacker.

As they did, Goodenough let out a cry of triumph. "They're well and away, Captain… And we've confirmed their arrival inside the fleet," he added a moment later, as the instant of hyperlight travel ended.

"Evasive, get us out of here, helm," Abebech squeezed her armrest and gave a sharp nod. "Good work, Commander."

Freed of the need to shield the ship they had come to meet, Ca'elia gyrated the ship around another burst of weapons fire before slamming the throttles to the stops.

Abebech grinned. "Good work, everyone. They're welcome to follow us into the middle of the Migrant Fleet if they really want to. Somehow I don't think they'll be that entertaining."

* * *

Fei'nur _hated_ working in vacuum. Adding zero-g to it just compounded the problem. Even a Spectre's counterpressure suit restricted mobility, and the lack of sound reduced her to barely better acuity than another soldier. She had gravity boots, of course, as did the rest of her team. That still left their pace plodding.

Corporal Ti'fiit was on point with her, and Sergeant Divya, a short Indic woman, carried the rear of the main body, two security officers out on each flank and a central group with plasma cutters and bomb-defusing gear numbering six in total. Conditions were eerie.

The reality of depressurisation was that as vacuum reduced pressure and the loss of heat reduced temperature, air could hold less and less moisture. But the water has to _go_ somewhere, and so first it turns into a fog, and then it freezes. As it freezes it condenses out of the air, and so there was a thin film of ice on all the once-alive corridors, rendering the dark scene viewed through goggles an unnatural air.

The inability to advance quickly left them slowly leapfrogging each other from cover to cover, on-edge for the slightest hint of movement or contact, with hand signals passed between the group. Any transmission would alert their enemies, before contact was made.

The good thing was the _lack of bodies._ They advanced close to the explosion, and even there didn't see any, though in the corridors that were blasted and twisted with fusion power scouring the tritanium and trinium, it would have been harder for mortal remains to still exist. Still, the passive sensors showed, comfortingly, many life-signs in the survival shelters. The warnings of Elia and Artesia had mattered.

If they could not fix and finish the team which had _caused_ the damage in the first place, however, getting those survivors out would not be possible; with that thought in mind, Fei'nur moved forward again, always taking point with the thinking her enhanced vision stood her the best chance of avoiding an ambush that would wipe out half her team in a split second.

Now they moved into a more wrecked area. There were gaping holes in the floor of the corridor, which was only supported in places by the main frame of the ship. They were almost there, working their way around in a big semi-circle back to where the blast had taken place, and the survival shelters nearest to it. The place, in short, that she would find Nah'dur.

They had to deactivate their gravity boots now and move on floating over the twisted gaps in the corridor plating, looking down to other shattered corridors below. They had to be very close, and that was a vulnerability, but an agnostic one. Their enemies would have to float across the gap, too.

With a flurry of gestures, Fei'nur slowed her team's advance, hyper-alert for imminent contact. Adrenaline and a cocktail of synthetic chemicals coursed through her blood. The action that loomed before them promised to be _short_.

Ahead, she could see a dim flicker of a moving light. There was someone using a _torch._

* * *

Arterus had gotten the Quarians clear in the Captain's Yacht, upchecking it in record time. A group of crewers in the area had filled out two more crew slots aboard who had the right qualifications but weren't part of the Damage Control Muster for that sector, and Chief Sherrod had insisted on going to make sure there was someone along on the trip for hospitality purposes as Arterus made his way to each of the Admirals' flagships.

That left Zhen'var to make her way up-ship, with the bridge located directly above her, now. Climbing through the vertical access hatches was a chore above all others.

"Captain, this is Commander Atreiad. I am at secondary control. Do you want me to take over from the bridge?"

"I do not think that necessary as yet, Commander." Zhen'var paused after opening one of the between-deck hatches. "I believe they have the situation well in hand, and I am heading for the bridge now. Continue to monitor, and use your judgement as to a need to take the conn if the situation worsens before I reach the bridge."

"Understood, Captain." A pause. "Marines have the STG team pinned down in Foxtrot Sector, F-22 at the moment. They're still trying to work their way around for the saucer section."

"I have full confidence in our Marines, alert the Colonel if the team successfully breaks for her position, she has enough of immediate concern last I saw her."

"Understood, Sir. No confirmed fatalities at this time," Will added, trying to give Zhen'var some good news.

"Thank you, Commander." She was already climbing again, trying to gain her destination as quickly as possible, where _Huáscar's_ Captain _belonged_ in a crisis.

Each ladder and each hatch pushed her to the limit, even with Fei'nur's efforts to make her fit, she was still a woman about a year out from an utterly massive surgery, when her body was still healing and she was still under Nah'dur's medical care. Fei'nur's physical fitness had honed muscles meant for an ambush predator, but the grueling climb was a challenge as complete as any that Fei'nur had come up with for her.

She was very proud of the fact that she was not _wheezing_ when, with muscles aching and wobbly on her feet, she spun the last unlocking wheel and staggered up and onto the bridge deck. The wheel spun and automatically dogged behind her as she slammed it down, and then she was stepping onto the bridge.

"Captain on the bridge! Maintain stations!" Daria ordered as she rose and came to attention. Even across species, Zhen'var could clearly see the relief that flooded her that the Captain had finally reached her position.

"Very well done, Leftenant Seldayiv. Situation report." She reflexively gave a quick salute in response to her subordinate's gesture of respect. Still breathing hard, in a now rumpled dress uniform, there was a momentary flash of almost-triumph at having made it as far as she did.

Daria remained at attention as she gave the report. "We have Repair 9 out conducting inspections of dorsal drive alignment now, Captain. Repair 3 is working to cut off the deranged bay doors so we can resume flight ops with bay air shields only and recover our fighters. We have twenty fighters on CAP. The _Heermann_ and her rendezvous are both within the Quarian fleet defensive perimeter. Full combat power, full shields, and speeds up to Warp 8 at your discretion. Repair 1 and Repair 2 have completed 85% of the spacetightness inspection for the ventilated perimeter. Estimate another twenty minutes before they can begin moving in for sector-by-sector repairs to restore hull integrity. We have an STG team of twelve life-signs, confirmed Salarians, pinned down in Foxtrot-22. Two down, ten still fighting. Two full Marine companies deployed to contain them. Six lifesigns still showing as Quarian in the area where Colonel Fei'nur and her twelve-person squad are operating. 114 life-signs in survival shelters in the ventilated sectors. Ma'am."

With a single nod, Zhen'var let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. "Thank you." She gave a nod of approval to her subordinate, before pitching her voice for the rest of the bridge. "Captain has the conn."

"Captain has the conn!" Daria acknowledged, and turned to step away and assume the tactical board. The relief radiated from her.

The older Dilgar woman's relief at being able to sink into her command chair was carefully concealed, though her legs thanked her. "Now, everyone, what can we do to assist our security and Marines…?"

* * *

Having made the signal for the team to settle down, to avoid vibrations or anything else that might be detected on the passive sensors of an STG team, Fei'nur gave a signal to Corporal Ti'fiit. The other Dilgar reached out and gave Fei'nur a gentle push.

Now, with no vibrations to provide warning, slowly but surely, Fei'nur was drifting into firing position for the STG team. Of course, to be able to evade their return fire, she would have to activate her gravity boots to _move,_ but for the moment, the tense seconds wore down… As she drifted through a zero-g vacuum.

Experience and cybernetic enhancement allowed her to precisely calculate the moment that she would open fire, floating closer. As soon as she fired, they would react, but the longer she floated, the greater the chance they would notice her… _And…_ ** _now!_**

Cybernetically enhanced muscles and senses created by Jha'dur Deathwalker were pitted against the finest Salarian commandos alive. The charge rifle fired at the same moment that Fei'nur activated her gravity boots. The Salarians, clustered around the door to a shelter, watched as the member of their team wielding the plasma cutter went flying as his gravity boots were wrenched off the deck by the shock and a puff of air turned to frost and dissipated as the armoured spacesuit was punched through at the highest setting-she'd only have a few shots-and vented to vacuum.

Fei'nur recoiled backwards, but then she activated her gravity boots. The Salarians responded instantly, and to their credit, their speed was excellent. Three of the remaining five had clear arcs and they fired in lethal unison. If she had kept recoiling in zero-g without activating the boots, they'd have been right on target.

Instead, the Dilgar slammed down into the deck and the shots went wide behind her. She already was aimed at a second Salarian, now one of those gunning for _her,_ and fired instantly. Another snap of light and sizzling gut-wound obscured by frost erupted from her second target. By the time it had, she had already activated her stealth suit, and lunged as fire converged, again from three Salarians as those few heartbeats were enough for another one to get into position; but she was already kicking her grav boots off and moving.

The old commando recognized she was in a desperate fight for her life. She quietly gave thanks that Commander _Poniatowska_ had been able to help her finally complete the war-era prototype of a stealth suit for vacuum use. Without it, she would have been not long for the living, as she kicked hard off a projecting shard of metal to change her vector slightly.

Their target disappearing gave the Salarians pause, and then the rest of Fei'nur's squad came in, hard. As they did, the Salarians reacted to the targets they could see, and that gave Fei'nur free space without covering fire against her in which to prove she was still there.

She leveled her rifle and fired. Another Salarian was slammed into by a burst of rounds in the midsection, neat and ruthless. Her squad was firing with her now, covering her and attacking the STG team themselves. A fusillade tore across the vacuum and missing shots gouged into carbonized, ruined metal fragments.

She fired off another two shots from her rifle, before discarding it while dodging to the side, pistol slipping from her holster as her knife went into her other hand. Spectres were at their most dangerous close in, where there was no report of a weapon to give their position away.

 _"Hold fire!"_ Fei'nur snapped, and suddenly the fire vanished. Another of the Salarians was already down from the fire of her squad and then she was in the others, the knife slipping into the joint of the force and slicing up, the specially designed vibro-weapon, procured on Solaris, ripping through the reinforced joint material of the Salarian spacesuit and venting it to vacuum.

Then the final Salarian was slammed into the wall by a burst of pulse fire that kept on hammering until the spasms of the amphibian came to an end in the gouts of freezing moisture and dissipating air. Corporal Ti'fiit raised her gun. "I obeyed what you _meant_ like the Captain taught us too, Battlemaster," she said sheepishly. Once Fei'nur had given away her position by killing the first, her firing arc was clear, so she'd used her initiative to kill the second rather than stay under their fire.

"No, _Sergeant_ Ti'fiit, that was _exactly_ what the Warmaster wants from her people." Fei'nur's voice was relieved, and rather _prideful_ too.

"Thank you, Battlemaster!" The Dilgar marine swelled with pride as she floated closer to the scorched hatch on the survival shelter. "How do we get them out?"

"There should be suits in the shelters, they're where the emergency ones are stored. We just need to let them know it is safe to un-do the interlocks. Pass me my rifle. Nah'dur should remember the tap-code."

"Colonel," Sergeant Divya came on the line, pointing to one of the floating bodies. "Those aren't Salarians. The one Ti'fiit shot. It's partially melted toward a pseudo-amphibian form," she gestured, using her suit omnitool as a tricorder. "The suit on that one is ventilated. It's a _chameloid,_ a shapeshifter, Ma'am."

"Get samples, put them in stasis if they have some method of destroying the evidence. _What_ they are matters somewhat less. "Fei'nur to Richards. At least some of the enemy appears to be able to shapeshift."

"Well, just what I wanted to hear. Colonel, we've got our own problems, they've split in two, the larger group is covering a smaller one that is working around us. Very heavy fighting in the corridors. It's two hundred and sixty to twelve and the larger group seems hell-bent on sacrificing itself to let a team of three through."

"I am moving to intercept, Major. We're having some problems getting the shelters open." She killed her transmitter, and leaned in to go helmet-to-helmet with her newly minted sergeant, letting the vibrations transmit her message. "Get the Commander and the Lieutenant _out_ of this sector, _no comms_ unless attacked!"

"Understood," Ti'fiit confirmed. "I think Sergeant Divya almost has the code finished…"

Barely had she said that when the Indic woman finished punching through, and the door hissed open, the dry air rushing out, and revealing two space-suited figures, one of whom was holding a plasma cutter with the side opened up, in position to be used as a weapon.

Fei'nur's expression of raw relief cascaded across her face, visible through the faceplate of her helmet. In Dilgar tactical sign, she gave her orders to the two figures in the shelter; _Follow her, retreat. Hostiles approaching._ The bodies scattered about punctuated the point.

The figure with the plasma cutter lowered it and seemed tensed and ready to rush into a pouncing embrace, when the Dilgar tactical sign triggered something fundamental drilled into her since she had been a little kit. She raised her off-hand and acknowledged it, and fell in with Ti'fiit.

Artesia spared a look behind her, and then flashed a thumb's-up to Fei'nur and followed Nah'dur out of the shelter.

Fei'nur gestured for the remainder of the team to follow her; she had Richard's transmissions to populate her tactical map, and that would do, to get her and her support into what would hopefully be an ambush position.

No notification of their recovery was sent. Zhen'var would be worried about her sister, but Fei'nur knew she'd stay calm about it, and Fei'nur knew, too, that she had no interest in making this easy on her enemies.

As Fei'nur proceeded forward through the ventilated compartments, working around the site of the bomb blast and now moving further aft, she knew that what followed would be an exceptionally lethal encounter. The STG team would be the very best the Salarians could send against her, and they had already risked an enormous effort, assets, prestige, and reputation, to try and stop Nah'dur.

But Fei'nur also knew that she was standing between a living, breathing Nah'dur and the Salarians, and that gave her all the motivation in the Cosmos that she needed.

Then a voice split the ship's open tactical channels, showing they had been hacked and reassuring Fei'nur that her decision to not report Nah'dur's rescue had been the correct one.

* * *

" _Huáscar_ Commander," the Salarian voice said matter-of-factly, "our mercenaries placed six bombs in the Quarian quarters aboard your vessel. We are within range to remote detonate them, and we are interested in the safety of our people, at the cost of life if necessary. If you do not hand over Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur and allow us to wipe the databases aboard the ship and confirm the destruction of her notes, we will detonate the bombs."

"The Alliance does not negotiate with terrorists as a matter of policy, sir, nor do _I_ negotiate with those who would have every interest in detonating those bombs to guarantee their escape." Zhen'var replied, demi-claws scraping along her armrests. "Chief Bor'erj, get me a secure link with Engineering, Security and Marine commanders, _now_."

"They hacked it with a direct tap, Ma'am," Bor'erj answered, and accessed the informations systems nodes and hacking protocols. "We can physically isolate that part of the internal comms system. Doing so now."

"Let me know as soon as you have the links securely established." She folded her hands before her, waiting to hear if there would be anything further from their unwelcome guests.


End file.
